Kim Possible: The Adult Years
by DeucesWild
Summary: This is a plot bunny that just wouldn't leave me alone until I did something with it, so here it is: new allies, old enemies, and a whole lotta trouble brewing for Team Possible! A/U; ignores the events of Graduation. Rating upped to M for content
1. Prologue

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:** The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental._

_**PROLOGUE**_

Ron Stoppable couldn't believe the sweltering heat. It seemed like the entire town of Middleton was there to witness the graduation of Middleton High's Senior class; and with the outside temperature of the late-June evening still in the mid-eighties, Ron was sure the temperature inside the auditorium was flirting with the hundred-degree mark… _if_ it hadn't already surpassed it. He had been looking forward to this day ever since he first set foot in the halls of the high school four years previous, now all he could think about was getting out of there. He was hungry, his butt hurt and his tie was starting to choke him, making him restless. However, his extensive experience at clandestine operations with his longtime partner—and now long-term girlfriend—Kim Possible had taught him how to keep himself still, despite the restlessness.

Breathing out an almost imperceptible sigh, Ron made another attempt at listening to the Mr. Barkin—the school's vice-principal—as he rambled on, wishing he was up on Lookout Point—a high plateau that overlooked Middleton, and from which one could, on a clear night, see the lights of Lowerton—with Kim, doing like they always did up there; sitting on the trunk of his mid-nineties ragtop Mustang, looking over the city, quiet music playing on the stereo.

Finally, Mr. Barkin said something to bring Ron back to the here-and-now, temporarily putting his daydream on hold. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his booming voice amplified even further through the auditorium's public-address system, "it is with great honor and privilege that I present to you Middleton High School's valedictorian, Miss Kimberley Ann Possible." A general shuffle was heard amongst the graduates as they turned to watch Kim make her way to the stage.

Ron couldn't help but be a little in awe of the young woman as he watched her approach the stage, moving with a grace borne from her years as a cheerleader and the confidence borne from her years as a crime fighter. He'd gotten used to the idea, but it still amazed him once in awhile that "the girl who can do anything" had chosen_ him,_ a dorky, uncoordinated putz, whose only real attribute was comic relief. She'd had guys fawning over her left and right… and yet, in spite of it all (or maybe _because_ of it all?), they'd gotten together in Junior year, and were still together, about to graduate high school and continue on with their lives.

Arriving at the podium, Kim took a deep breath, looking out over the crowd before beginning her speech. "Thank you, Mr. Barkin," she began, smiling briefly in his direction before turning to face the crowd once again. She took a brief moment to let her eyes scan across the many familiar faces present in the auditorium that evening. Doing her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, Kim cleared her throat before speaking again.

"Man, is it just me, or is it hotter than Hades in here tonight?" she said, a note of humor in her voice. A polite laugh was heard from most of the crowd, relieving some of the nervous tension that was manifesting itself as a knot in Kim's stomach. _I've faced deranged psychopaths and lethal criminals,_ she thought,_ and I'm worried about speaking in front of a crowd… go figure._ Feeling a bit more confident, she took another deep breath and launched into her speech.

"Fellow students, honored guests, teachers, parents, ladies and gentlemen," she began, "at the beginning of our senior year, I was asked to present the valedictorian's speech at the graduation ceremony. Of course, the first thought that went through my mind was _why me? There are several other candidates that are far more qualified than I am._ After some convincing by both friends and family, I finally accepted.

"The next question to cross my mind was, _what do I talk about?_ I originally had thought about the usual _life's a journey and this is just one of the milestones we'll pass in our lives,_ but somehow, it just didn't seem adequate. Instead, I thought I'd pass along some lessons I've learned over the past few years… some came from within the halls of Middleton High; while others weren't so hard." Again, polite laughter could be heard. Even Mr. Barkin chuckled at that joke.

"As many of you know, I've been involved in some, rather _unique,_ shall we say, extracurricular activities since my sophomore year. I've met some interesting people—some good, some not so much—and I've been all over the world. I've seen more in the last four years than most will see in a lifetime… and I wouldn't trade it for a minute.

"I said I was going to speak about things I've learned." Pausing, Kim turned to face the graduates' gallery, speaking to them directly. "I hope you weren't expecting a whole rigmarole of advice… 'cause I don't have any. All I can tell you is this: no matter what you face, no matter who tells you what you should and shouldn't do… _follow your heart._ That's the best advice I can give anybody."

Kim turned to face the audience in general before she continued. "I know there isn't one person in this room tonight that doesn't have a regret of some type because they didn't follow their heart, or they let somebody talk them out of something they wanted to do. Too many people put too much on _logic_ and the _reasonable choices._ Sometimes, the best choice isn't the most reasonable one or the most logical one… it's the one that makes the most sense _for us._

"I'm the perfect example. How many people told me I shouldn't worry about the troubles in the world or the so-called _super-villains_ that were threatening to take over the world or destroy it? _You're too young,_ they would say, _you shouldn't be concerning yourself with that stuff. Let the _grown-ups_ handle it." _The contempt with which she used the term _grown-up _wasn't lost on many in the auditorium, but nobody made a move to interrupt. "More than once, I was even tempted to take that advice and just give it all up and go back to being a teenager.

"So why didn't I? Well, the answer's simple, really… I couldn't. Whenever I would get down about not being able to live like a so-called _normal_ teenager, I would go up to the treehouse and just sit—sometimes for hours on end—and think. Every time I asked myself the question _should I quit,_ the answer was always the same: _can I live with myself if I do?_ Helping people is my life… my calling, as it were. I couldn't give it up if I tried… and I don't want to." Again, Kim turned to address the graduates' gallery again, this time with a broadening smile on her face.

"If you take nothing else from this redhead's ramblings, take this: each and every one of you has a talent. Something you enjoy doing and are good at; something that, if you could do it for a living, would make you the happiest person in the world. For some, that may mean working as a computer scientist; for others, maybe their dream is to travel the highways and byways of America in a semi. Whatever your aspirations might be… make sure that your dreams are _yours,_ nobody else's."

Kim had planned on ending her speech with that thought, but she got a sudden wave of inspiration, so she continued. "Live your life as if each day is your last. Laugh. Cry. Play catch in the backyard with your son/daughter/cousin/whoever. Torment your twin brothers once in awhile, then treat them to an ice cream or something for putting up with your shenanigans." At this, Kim cast a conspiratorial wink at her twin brothers before continuing. "Whatever it is that makes you feel good about yourself and makes your day just a little bit brighter. Smile and the world smiles with you; frown, and nobody wants to talk to you."

Again pausing, Kim turned to—at least, from the audience's perspective—look at the graduates' gallery again; while, in reality, she was looking directly at one person in particular. Her voice much softer than it was when she began her speech; the microphone mounted to the podium almost didn't pick it up when she spoke again. "Above all else, never, _ever_ be scared to tell the special people in your life just how much they mean to you," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper as she locked eyes with Ron. "Don't be scared to tell them you love them… because you might lose your chance before you know it."

Ron gazed deep into the emerald eyes of the young woman he'd fallen in love with, her words striking at his heartstrings every bit as much as their first kiss did at Junior Prom. They had both known that they loved each other for a long time, but neither had bothered to say it; at least, not with words. They could feel it every time they looked in each other's eyes or made physical contact. For them, it was enough.

He also realized, however, that they had started getting lost in each other's eyes, and Kim was still supposed to be delivering a speech; so, in true Stoppable fashion, he flashed his trademark goofy grin and a thumbs-up, winking as he did so.

That had the desired effect. Kim turned to face the crowd again, the barest of flushes evident on her cheeks. She did manage to retain her composure, however; not letting on to anybody what had just transpired between her and her significant other. Taking a breath, she once again gazed out over the crowd, briefly catching the eye of her mother before she spoke again. "I mean… isn't that what living life is all about? Doing the things you love with the people you care about?"

Scanning the room one last time, Kim again caught the eye of her mother; but something was different this time. Dr. Anne Possible was subtly wiping a tear away, an approving smile on her face. Beside her, Dr. James Possible gazed in awe at the words that his "Little Kimmie" spoke, realizing once and for all that she was, all of a sudden, all grown up… and definitely no fool.

Kim smiled sheepishly at the crowd one last time, her arms folded behind her. "Guess I went off on a little tangent there," she said softly, "sorry." Clearing her throat, she straightened her spine before speaking again. "Getting back to my original point, though; like I said at the beginning, if there's one thing I can honestly say I've learned between school and saving the world, it's this: nothing's worth doing if your heart's not in it. Thank you." With the slightest of bows, Kim turned to return to her seat in the graduates' gallery. As she walked, Kim started to think maybe her speech had fallen flat; there was nary a sound to be heard from anywhere in the auditorium. However, almost like a replay of Junior Prom, the entire room suddenly erupted in a symphony of cheers and applause; from the students, the teachers and the audience alike.

Kim's best friend—Ron notwithstanding—Monique high-fived her as she returned to her seat. "You tell 'em how it is, girlfriend!" she crowed, a broad smile on her face.

"Thanks," was all Kim could say, relieved that her speech had been as well-received as it was. The moment of silence before the crowd started cheering had made her nervous. Little did Kim realize, but there was one individual in the crowd—watching from the back of the room—that should have made her about ten times more nervous than a possibly blown speech ever should.

Nobody had originally noticed the young woman that took a seat in the back of the room, almost directly back from the stage. Other than her odd attire—a knee-length, dark-green (almost black) trench coat, matching fedora and Oakley sunglasses—she presented no threat or suspicion to anybody. Even in the sweltering heat, the woman never removed any of her outer gear; even going so far as to keep her leather driving gloves on her hands, leaving only her cheeks, chin and nose exposed. Only one person in the whole auditorium had taken notice of the woman when she entered the auditorium, and he was now keeping a hawk-like watch on her as she seemed to be eyeing Kim rather heavily. Wade Load, Kim's pre-teen tech guru, had the (mis)fortune of being seated a mere six seats away from the mysterious spectator, giving him the opportunity he needed to keep a close eye on her—not to mention the chance to realize just why the woman was keeping as much of her skin covered as possible… but the green tint was still visible in her pale cheeks.

_Damn,_ he thought to himself, _what's Shego doing here?_ Not wanting to attract undue attention to either himself or the evil Dr. Drakken's muscle—lest he unwittingly provoke the older woman—Wade turned once again to face the stage, watching as Mr. Barkin began calling the graduates to the podium one-by-one to accept their diplomas. His positioning, however, allowed him to keep Shego in his peripheral vision, ready to alert Kim at a moment's notice if he thought things were to become ugly, surreptitiously slipping his left hand into the pocket of his blazer, where his personal version of the Kimmunicator resided, his thumb resting on the silent page button. One press of the button would cause Kim's wrist-mounted device to vibrate, alerting her to a problem without disrupting the entire ceremony—something she and Wade had agreed on beforehand.

Shego, however, seemed uninterested in causing a scene; preferring to remain incognito at the rear of the auditorium. Her hand had snaked its way into her coat pocket, causing Wade to tense up, but relaxed when she withdrew it, holding what looked to be a charred piece of paper. He watched as Shego gazed at the paper, looking almost… _wistful?_

That piqued Wade's curiosity. What could possibly be on that slip of paper? Shego was famous for her detachment from any emotions (other than rage and sarcasm); yet here she was, staring at a piece of paper (Wade had a suspicion it was a photograph) and looking like she was missing something in her life—something she'd had at one point, but lost.

"Miss Kimberly Anne Possible," Steve Barkin's voice rang out over the public-address system, drawing both Wade's and Shego's attention to the stage; where Kim could be seen crossing the floor to accept her diploma, a beaming smile on her face. Wade still kept a half-eye on Shego, but again, she made no move to interrupt the proceedings, so he let himself relax. If there was a time she would have picked to take Kim down, that would have been it. Instead, he caught a glimpse of her taking one last look at the scrap of paper in her hand before shoving it back into her pocket, her own gaze returning to the stage, watching as Kim returned to her seat in the gallery. Even though she wasn't causing any trouble, and didn't seem to have any desire to do so, Wade couldn't help but wonder what brought the mint-skinned villain to—of all things—her arch-nemesis' graduation. These thoughts continued to run through Wade's mind as the ceremony continued, rapidly approaching the end of the festivities. Every time he chanced a peek, Wade saw no change in Shego's demeanor; which served only to make him more and more curious as to her intentions.

Finally, Mr. Barkin called upon Reverend Sampson to bring the evening to a close by offering the benediction to the Class of 2007. Reaching the podium, the leader of the Middleton Baptist Church beckoned for the attendees to rise for the offering of the benediction. As he stood, Wade turned just in time to see Shego ducking out the back door of the auditorium, the tail of her jacket swooshing lightly around her legs as she walked. He had almost returned his gaze to the front of the auditorium when something else caught his eye. Excusing himself to those seated along his row, he made his way as quickly and silently as he could to the object of his attention—the scrap of paper Shego had been looking at before apparently had slipped from her pocket when she rose to leave.

_Whoa,_ Wade thought to himself when he picked up the charred bit of paper, _this isn't something I was expecting._ As he thought, the scrap was indeed photographic paper—evidently from one of those photo booths in the mall. In and of itself, it was rather non-descript, but the subject matter of the photograph made Wade do a triple-take; a smiling Shego—or, rather, Miss Go—and Kim, looking like they were having a wonderful time. Making a snap decision, Wade turned to follow the mint-skinned woman, bent on finding out just what her reasons were.

As luck would have it, he didn't have far to go. Just outside the lobby, Wade caught a glimpse of a woman in a trench-coat and fedora, smoking a cigarette. He walked as nonchalantly as he could, exiting the building from the doors the furthest from where she stood. The woman paid him no interest as he stopped, barely two steps clear of the doorway, acting as though he was glad to be out of the stuffy auditorium. Reaching into the inner breast pocket of his blazer, Wade pulled out a peppermint and popped it into his mouth.

"Lovely night isn't it?" he said, his gaze fixed on the constellation Orion. The woman merely grunted a response, taking a drag from the cigarette. Almost amused at Shego's _Spy vs. Spy_ mystique, Wade took a quick look around. Satisfied they were indeed alone for the moment, he spoke again. "You dropped your picture in there, y'know."

That caught her attention, her head snapping around to look at the young boy. "Great; busted by Nerdlinger," she muttered, dropping the cigarette on the ground, grinding it out with the toe of her boot.

"What's your game, Shego?" he asked, approaching her.

"I just wanted to watch Kimmie's graduation, what do you think?" she snarled, no longer avoiding Wade's eyes.

"Somehow I doubt it," Wade said. "If all you wanted to do was watch Kim graduate, you could have watched it on TV." Due to Kim's worldwide fame, the requests had been coming in all through her senior year from television networks to have exclusive rights to televise the event. While the deal could have been extremely lucrative for Middleton High, Kim didn't care much for the idea of paparazzi and journalists turning her graduation—one of the highlights of her academic career—into a media circus. Instead, Wade had gone into the auditorium a week before the ceremony and set up a complete closed-circuit system that any network that wished to televise the event could patch into.

"I prefer the personal touch," Shego replied with a wry smile.

"Enough to go through all the trouble of disguising yourself as a Carmen Sandiego look-alike?" Wade quipped.

Shego couldn't help but let a sigh of exasperation escape her lips. "Okay, okay; you got me," she said, removing her sunglasses. "I came here because I want to talk to Kim face-to-face."

"I thought you said you weren't here to cause trouble; or else you would have—?" Wade began, but Shego cut him off.

"I said I wanted to _talk,_ Poindexter," she snapped. "I'm waving a white flag here."

Wade was skeptical at first. Here he stood, not two feet away from somebody that, under normal circumstances, would have thought nothing of charging the stage and taking Kim on right then and there. But, as he watched the expressions in Shego's eyes, he could tell that she was sincere in her wishes. She just wanted to talk. Heaving a sigh, he studied the concrete under their feet for a moment before looking at Shego once again. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm going to go back in and watch from the back. Once Barkin dismisses everybody, I'll page Kim. One thing she never does of her own free will is ignore the Kimmunicator. I'll get her to meet me out here; and you'll be waiting."

"Well, you're being awful trusting all of a sudden," Shego said, quirking an eyebrow in surprise. Wade merely chuckled.

"Don't be so sure," he said, almost slyly. "I may be helping you a bit right now, but at the same time, both the Secret Service and Global Justice have this place staked out to the max. As it stands right now, you're probably in the crosshairs of a GJ sniper, just waiting for an excuse to take you down."

"I'm one of the most wanted criminals in the country," Shego replied, "why haven't they taken me down yet?"

Her question wasn't so much curiosity as it was that of trying to call Wade's bluff. She didn't doubt that security was tight in the area, but snipers seemed a bit over-the-top. What she wasn't expecting, however, was Wade's call of the bluff. "Kim's idea—don't take hostile action if none has been taken against her. So far, all you've done is attend the graduation and smoke a cigarette outside the building; neither of which are remotely illegal. The entire premises were inspected last night at midnight, and then the area was locked down; no unauthorized personnel allowed in before six this evening, when the grads and parents would start arriving."

"I'm impressed," Shego said, not bothering to mask her appreciation towards just how thorough the preparations had been for one of the most widely-publicized events the world had seen since the untimely death of Princess Diana or the election of Pope Benedict XVI. "You guys really thought this out."

"If you prefer, I could notify Global Justice that you're getting ready to lay the smackdown on Kim and give 'em _carte blanche_ to start trying to pop you," Wade replied, withdrawing his Kimmunicator from his jacket.

"Okay, okay," Shego said, raising her hands in surrender, "we'll play it your way. I'll wait right here for you." As if to reinforce her statement, she slowly reached into her jacket and withdrew a pack of Marlboro Lights, extracting a cigarette with her lips before returning the pack to her pocket. Wade watched as she slipped the glove from her right hand, and, mimicking a lighter, flicked her thumb in the air, a slender green flame flickering from it. Winking at him, she used the flame to light the cigarette, extinguishing it as soon as it was sufficiently lit, pulling her glove back on as she puffed the noxious smoke from the corner of her mouth.

"I'll be right back," Wade said, entering the building again, leaving Shego to wait patiently.

Kim was standing with her parents and Ron, her right hand in his left, and laughing at a comment her mother had just made. Ron's naked mole rat, Rufus, had finally made an appearance (Anne Possible had smuggled him in her purse), and was perched on Kim's shoulder. Wade took in the scene almost reverently, thinking how the group of them looked like one big, happy family. He was loath to interrupt the tender scene, but he knew that the circumstances were definitely what would qualify as "extenuating." Sighing sadly, he took his own version of the omni-communications device and pressed a button. He could tell just by the expression on Kim's face when the signal he'd sent was received by her own wrist-mounted version. Instead of the usual A/V transmissions they shared, Wade had instead sent Kim a simple text message: _Meet me at main entrance. Bring Ron. Wade._

* * *

Ron was laughing at a remark James Possible had made about his own graduation when he noticed Kim's left arm suddenly rise from her side. He knew right away she'd just gotten a silent alert on her Kimmunicator, so he leaned in to see what Wade had to say. He was more than just a little surprised to see that, instead of the teenaged-genius' face, text graced the miniature screen on Kim's wrist. 

"What's with the cloak-and-dagger stuff?" Kim mused aloud, her brow furrowed. Shrugging, she turned to face her parents. "Mom, Dad; Ron and I have to go meet Wade out front. Something's up," she said, an expression of guilt on her face. "Hopefully it's nothing major."

"Go," her mother said simply, giving Kim's shoulder a gentle shove. "Celebration dinners can be held anytime." Over the years, James and Anne Possible had grown accustomed to their daughter's frequent sudden departures; as disappointing as they could be at times, they took it all in stride. Kim took a moment to hug her mother and father, bestowing a kiss for good measure on the cheek of her family patriarch before she and Ron made a beeline for the foyer doors; Rufus taking the opportunity to jump from Kim's shoulder to return to Mrs. Possible's purse.

"I don't get it," Kim mused aloud once she and Ron had exited the auditorium, "why would Wade send a text message instead of talking direct to us?"

"Maybe he just didn't want to spring a mission on you with your parents right there… especially on the night of your graduation?" Ron offered.

"It's never stopped him before," Kim replied darkly as they passed through the doors leading to the foyer. It took them but a second to find the hefty tech guru, standing a scant few yards from where they emerged. He made his way towards them, waving to catch their attention as he moved.

Ron saw him first. "Hey, Wade! What's up?" he said as the younger teen arrived in front of them.

"Hey guys," Wade said, a note of urgency in his voice, extending to the almost strained expression on his face. "I'd give you the heads-up before I show you, but you won't believe me… just trust me," he added in response to the dubious looks he was getting from the crime-fighting duo.

Kim cast a quick look at her boyfriend, then back to their young partner. "Okay, Wade, what've you got to show us?"

"It's not so much a _what,_ as a _who,"_ Wade said, beckoning them to follow him. "You'll see what I mean in a sec."

Ron scratched his head in confusion. "Who-what-when… KP, I thought we agreed that Wade wasn't supposed to talk in riddles anymore!" he groused, his face screwed up in concentration.

"Never mind, Ron; let's just see what he's got to show us," Kim replied, taking his hand and urging him to follow her and Wade to the main doors of the building. As soon as they'd passed through the glass and steel portals, Wade looked to his left, beckoning them to follow as he'd apparently found what—or rather, _who—_he'd been looking for.

Ron saw who Wade was headed towards first, but his recognition was ill-placed. "Hey, Wade, is that Carmen Sandiego?" he asked. A suppressed groan of exasperation was heard from the subject of Ron's inquiry in response.

"Uh… she doesn't take well to that crack; I made it a few minutes ago," Wade replied.

"I'll let it go this time; I would expect as much from the Buffoon," an eerily familiar voice said, obviously coming from the woman they were approaching. Kim's expression hardened as soon as the owner of the voice registered on her.

"Shego," Kim growled through clenched teeth, her grip tightening on Ron's hand, as his did to hers.

"In the flesh," she retorted simply, dropping the cigarette she'd been idly smoking, crushing the glowing ember under the toe of her boot.

"To what do we owe this _dis_pleasure?"

"First things first, Kimmie, I want to make it perfectly clear that I'm waving a white flag tonight," Shego said, taking a half-step forward, but making no hostile moves otherwise. "I don't want to fight; I only want to talk."

"Okay," Kim said, a note of trepidation still in her voice, "if you're just here to talk, then I'll listen." Taking a step forward of her own, Kim raised her hand, index finger extended ramrod-straight at Shego's nose. "But know this: one—and I mean _one—_wrong move out of you, and I will have your ass in a sling so quick you won't even know it hit you."

"I've already warned her that she's probably got a set of GJ crosshairs on her skull right now," Wade interjected.

"Tell GJ to stand down," Kim said. "If Shego wants to screw around… she's _mine."_ Sighing, Wade pulled out his PDA and advised GJ of Kim's request as the auburn-headed heroine kept her icy gaze on the mint-skinned villainess.

"Listen, Princess," Shego growled, "I'm trying to extend an olive branch, but if you're just gonna give me attitude, I may reconsider."

"Why don't we just hear her out?" Ron said suddenly. Everybody else present had just about forgotten about the heroine's partner, but he stood his ground a half-step behind Kim, and just to her left, offering him a clear view of Shego. Kim turned her head just enough to be able to see him from the corner of her eye, never taking her attention from where her nemesis stood, mere feet from their own position. Catching his eye briefly, Kim nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Okay, Shego; you've got two minutes… go." Kim said, again locking eyes with Shego.

"Fair enough," the older woman said, her almost ever-present sarcastic smirk absent from her face. "Kimmie—Kim," she amended in a rare display of respect, "I'm here to warn you."

Kim, Ron and Wade all gaped at the woman in front of them in disbelief. Here was Kim Possible's arch-foe, her most dangerous adversary, the only one that could give the teenage dynamo a run for her money… _warning_ her? All three members of Team Possible—the front-line and back-end support alike—were struck speechless. Finally, Ron found his voice hidden somewhere around his diaphragm. "Warn her… of what?"

"Doctor D's gone off the deep end," she replied, her eyes darkening, "and I don't mean in the usual mad-scientist, am-I-really-_really-_evil-Shego kinda way. I mean he's gone totally bananas."

"And… this has _what_ to do with us?" Kim said, looking warily at Shego. "Quite frankly, I think Drakken would look good in an I-love-me jacket."

"I don't think you're quite catching the meaning, Kim," Shego said, stepping closer to the young redhead. "Drakken has a new objective, and it's not taking over the world."

"Finally gave up on the pipe dream, huh?" Ron commented. Shego barely spared the young man a second glance as she stopped bare inches from where Kim stood; the slightly taller Shego bending her neck to look Kim directly in the eye—in such a way she wasn't looking _down_ on Kim, just locking gazes with the younger heroine.

"So what exactly _are_ you saying, Shego?" Kim asked, giving the villainess no quarter, her own olive eyes locked with Shego's emerald ones.

"Kim… Drew Lipsky wants you _dead."_

Neither of the two women spoke for a moment, then, to Shego's chagrin, Kim started laughing. "You mean to tell me," she said between laughs, "you came all this way, played cloak-and-dagger with us until Wade found you… to tell me something I _already know?_ You and Drakken have both been trying to take me down ever since the first time I kicked your biscuit!"

Shego let out a growl of frustration, throwing her hands up in the air and stepping away from where Kim stood. "Don't you get it, Princess?" she exclaimed, turning back to face the younger heroine. "I never wanted to _kill_ you… injure, sure; maybe even maim or incapacitate… but never _once_ did I try to kill you!" Taking a breath, she flexed her hands, composing herself once again before returning to within a couple of steps of Kim. "Look, Kim, we may fight a lot, and yeah, we've given each other some pretty lasting marks, but… God, I was hoping it wouldn't be this god-damned _hard!"_ With that, Shego turned so her back was to Kim once again, her head slumped and fists clenched once again in frustration.

"Come again?" Kim said, now completely confused.

"Does it have anything to do with this?" Wade offered, withdrawing the charred photograph from his pocket. "You dropped it when you left the auditorium," he said in response to Shego's questioning look.

"Yeah, you could say that," she replied, her shoulders slumping further, her expression gone almost neutral. Wade passed it to Ron, who was trying to get a look at the mysterious slip of paper.

"Hey, this is—" he began. Wade nodded in response.

"Um… hello?" Kim said, waving her hand at her boyfriend and tech guru. "Would you guys mind cluing me into the sitch, here?"

Ron merely passed the photograph to his girlfriend, turning to Shego as soon as Kim had taken hold of the charred fragment. "Okay, Shego… what's the game?" he asked simply.

"There is no _game,_ Ron," Shego replied, her hands jammed into the pockets of her trench coat. "After that whole incident with the Attitudinator, a lot of the evil-sidekick-hired-muscle stuff kind of lost its appeal. Simple version is this: I'm sick of Drakken and his crap and I want to go straight."

Kim had been silent up to that point, almost awestruck at the photo in her hand. She remembered the day that photo had been taken at Middleton Mall. She and Shego—Miss Go at that time—had spent a day shopping and hit the photo booth on a whim as they were preparing to leave, giving them an impromptu souvenir of their day out. She couldn't suppress the wistful smile that spread across her face, remembering just how much she'd enjoyed Shego's company as a good person; but Wade's comment snapped her out of her reverie, turning to look directly at Team Possible's tech guru. "You don't suppose…" she began, wondering if Wade was thinking along the same lines.

"…that maybe the Attitudinator left some residual alterations to Shego's brainwaves?" Wade finished, the cogs almost visibly turning in his head as he spoke. "It is possible that multiple exposures to the Attitudinator could have residual side-effects… and it would explain a lot of things. Take Ron for example."

"Me?" Ron said, pointing to himself in almost disbelief.

"Yeah," Wade replied, "you've had several encounters with the Attitudinator, and since then your fighting prowess has improved radically."

"I thought that was more due to Ron being able to harness the Mystical Monkey power better?" Kim interjected.

"That may be part of it," Wade said, "but I think the Attitudinator may have a part to play in it, as well. Remember when Ron was everybody's favorite super-villain?"

"Ughh, don't remind me," Shego said, her voice laced with disgust. "Instead of taking over the world, he just wanted to turn everything into a Naco."

"Not exactly, but I digress," Wade replied, rolling his eyes. "Other than his skin turning blue à la Drakken, Ron's other major difference as Zorpox was his fighting ability—it increased tenfold. His first exposure didn't have any lasting effects, but after taking the second round of hits courtesy of Electronique, his overall fighting prowess has remained elevated."

"So what does it all mean?" Ron asked.

"Simple version is this: repeated exposures to the Attitudinator will make a person's true colors shine through. In your case, Ron, the only thing it did is reveal to everybody that you're not the grade-A klutz everybody thinks you are."

"Okay, but how does that relate to me?" Shego asked.

"Well, I can't say for sure—and for all we know, this theory is coming out of left field—but as near as I can figure, having had as many exposures to the Attitudinator as you have, it was only a matter of time before you started questioning your current occupation."

"That's one way to put it, I guess," Shego replied, smirking slightly. "The final nail in the coffin for my tenure with Doctor D. was when I found out what he wanted to do to Kim. Like I said before, I just wanted to beat her decisively… not permanently."

"So basically, we've got the same Shego, but on our side now?" Kim surmised.

"That's about the size of it, Kim," Shego replied, "and for the record—I might want to go straight, but there's _no way_ I'm going to be the super-sweet Miss Go that you remember."

"Works for me!" Kim said. "Sure, it was fun hanging out with the super-good version of you, but it did get rather sickening at times."

"Especially anytime we had to double-date with you and _Stevie,"_ Ron added, provoking a shudder among those present. Mister Barkin's attempts to court the attractive Miss Go had bordered on fairy-tale, instant-cavity sweet sometimes… the source of those actions making it even harder to envision or endure.

"Okay, Shego, here's the deal," Kim said, going into mission-mode, "I'm gonna contact GJ to come pick you up and bring you to a safe house for the night. We'll meet again tomorrow evening to start hammering out details… and hopefully get you cleared."

"Do we _have_ to get Global Justice involved?" Shego moaned.

"What choice do we have?" Kim replied. "You and I may have an understanding right now, but that doesn't count for squat, all things considered. Think about it, you have more outstanding warrants for your arrest from more jurisdictions than I'd care to think about right now—not to mention a hefty price on your head. I'd be willing to put money on the fact that the only reason you're not dead or, at best, in the middle of a firefight right now is because of my request to GJ to keep things quiet. Where I have pull with them, I'll talk to them about giving you a safe place to stay for the night, and tomorrow we'll see where we stand and go from there."

Shego heaved a sigh, then nodded, resigning herself to the facts. She obviously didn't like bringing Global Justice into the mix, but she also realized it was the only viable option available to them at the time that didn't involve her either hiding or running… or both. "Okay Kim," she said, "let's get it over with."

Kim looked at Shego and smiled before turning to Wade. "Wade, get Doctor Director on the line and explain the sitch as best you can. I'll be right here if she wants to talk to me directly."

"That's almost guaranteed," Wade replied as he started making the uplink to Global Justice's top authority, speaking as he worked. "If she's only talking to me, she may think I've been kidnapped and coerced or something."

Less than a minute later, the eyepatch-clad visage of Dr. Betty Director graced the screen of Wade's omni-functional PDA. "Mister Load," she said jovially, "to what do I owe the pleasure? I trust the arrangements we made for Kim's graduation were adequate?"

"Oh, absolutely," Wade replied, making it clear that all had indeed gone well with the security arrangements for the evening. "However, there has been a rather… _unexpected_ development."

"Agent Du informed me that Shego has been spotted on the premises, but no action was taken against her… and a request was made for us to stand down regarding her presence," Director stated, not bothering to cloak the irritation in her voice. "Has there been a problem?"

"Not so much a problem, but Kim has a special request for Global Justice… albeit somewhat unorthodox."

"Is Kim there? I would much rather she make the request directly, if it's possible… no pun intended," Director stated.

Kim had been listening the entire time, and was completely prepared for Director's request when it came. Without a word, she took Wade's PDA from his hand. "I'm right here, Doctor Director," she said, meeting Director's stern gaze with one of her own.

"Kim," Director said, a practiced smile on her face, "congratulations on your achievements—and your speech; I watched the entire ceremony via Mr. Load's closed-circuit feed."

"Thank you, Doctor Director," Kim said, "but let's scrap the unnecessary pleasantries, shall we? I have a special request for protection from an individual that's well-known to both of us, and I'm hoping you'll be able to help us out."

Director was slightly taken aback. Never before had Kim been this up-front and frank with her, so she figured whatever the request was, it had to be important to her. "You have my undivided attention, Kim," she said, "and my word that I'll help you in whatever way I can."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Kim said. "Without going into too many details, Shego's asked for our help in going straight."

"Care to elaborate on that a bit?" Director said, not quite ready to blindly follow Kim's gut feelings… which was exactly what it smelled like to her. She trusted Kim's judgment, but even the most observant person could be fooled, and Director wanted to make sure.

"Shego's had enough of the criminal life and can help us take down Drakken once and for all. She helps us do that, and we help her start a new life as a free-and-clear member of society," Kim replied. Sighing, she cast a glance at the auditorium doors, noticing several groups of people starting to file out of the building. "Look, it's starting to get crowded out here; if you can give Shego safe haven for the night, we can discuss things further tomorrow."

"You're serious about this?"

"Never more so in my life."

"You're willing to stake your reputation on this?"

"My reputation, my word and my life," Kim said, never flinching.

Director finally nodded, after pondering for what seemed like an eternity. "Alright. I trust your judgment, Kim, but I'm afraid some precautions will have to be taken."

Kim noticed Shego tense at that statement. "What sort of precautions?" she asked, her eyes still on Shego.

"Instead of a safe house, Miss Go will be brought directly to Global Justice—not into custody; just as a precautionary measure. She'll be placed in a vacant ladies' barracks room. Would that be acceptable?"

Kim looked again at Shego, as if transferring the question to the older woman. "One question," Shego said, moving to speak to Director herself.

"What's that?" the Global Justice head asked.

"Are the showers private or community?"

Kim snorted, trying her best to suppress a laugh, her free hand clamping over her mouth to hide the smirk. Doctor Director, meanwhile, merely smiled at the former villainess, who was peering over Kim's shoulder. "Worry not, Miss Go," she said, "our barracks would be better referred to as condominiums. Each unit has its own facilities, laundry and appliances. Think a higher-end, two-bedroom condo, and you have the basic idea."

"Sold," Shego replied with a genuine smile, first aimed at Dr. Director, then to Kim. "Thanks, Princess," she said, moving away from her vantage point over Kim's shoulder.

"No problem, Shego," Kim replied. "If you're truly willing to try to make a fresh start, I'm willing to help."

"Kim," Director's tinny voice drew the redhead's attention back to the PDA in her right hand, "I've advised one of our agents on-site there to come and collect Miss Go and escort her back to our facilities. His name is Special Agent Mark Dawson." As she spoke, her own image was replaced with a file photo of the agent, giving Kim means to positively identify their contact. "He should be there within two minutes in a Global Justice car."

"Thank you, Doctor Director," Kim said as the face of Dr. Director once again graced the screen, "for everything."

"If this pans out, you'll be the one that deserves the thanks," Director replied. "We'll talk further when you come to meet with us tomorrow." With that, Director's face disappeared from the screen of Wade's PDA, briefly displaying the stylized _KP_ logo that he had designed before winking out completely. Smiling, she handed the device back to Wade, who replaced it in his pocket.

"Well, Shego," Kim said, turning to the green-hued woman, "the ball's rolling. Let's just hope that everything goes smoothly from here on out."

"I sure hope so," Shego replied.

"Here comes your ride," Wade said, pointing out a black Crown Victoria that had just pulled into the parking lot not far from where they stood. As it approached, Kim and Shego could both plainly see the driver was the individual Director had informed them would be coming to collect her, stopping the car a respectable distance from where they stood and approaching them on foot.

"Miss Go?" he said simply, looking at Shego. "Whenever you're ready, we'll leave for headquarters; no rush if you're still talking to Miss Possible," he added, nodding acknowledgement to Kim and Ron.

"Sure… I'll be right there," Shego replied, smiling briefly at the man. Dawson nodded and returned to where the Crown Vic stood, its engine idling. Shego cast the car and driver a quick look before turning back to her former arch-nemesis. "Listen, Kim… thank you. For everything—past and present. Fighting you was fun… let's hope fighting _with_ you will be that much better."

"I can't wait," Kim replied, a beaming smile on her face. "And if you ever need a sparring partner… don't hesitate to call."

"Count on it," Shego replied. "Just because we're on the same side now doesn't mean I don't still want to find out once and for all whether or not I can take you fair-and-square."

"Time and place, Shego," Kim said, the double-meaning of the phrase not lost on any of those present. "In the meantime, go get yourself settled at Global Justice, and we'll talk tomorrow."

"You got it, Princess," Shego said with just a hint of her trademark snark, turning to head for the Global Justice car. After a couple of steps, however, she stopped and turned back to where Kim stood. "I almost forgot something."

"What's that?" Kim asked.

"As of now, 'Shego' is no more," she said, her mouth once again spreading into a genuine, _happy_ smile. "My real name is Kathryn Gogh… you can call me Kate, if you want."

Kim's face mirrored that of Shego—or, rather, Kate Gogh. "You got it, Kate," she replied. All three members of Team Possible stood together, watching as their new ally approached the Crown Vic, unceremoniously brushing off the Global Justice agent's attempt at chivalry by opening her own door and climbing into the back of the car. Kim and Ron both exchanged a glance with Agent Dawson—who merely shrugged and climbed behind the wheel of the car—before exchanging a look with each other.

"At least she's not as sick-sweet as Miss Go was," Ron said.

"I think this version of Miss Gogh will be easier to swallow," Kim replied, slipping her hand into that of her boyfriend's.

* * *

_A/N: Like I said in the tag line, this is a plot bunny that's been hounding away at me for a long time now, and I finally decided to take a crack at it and see how it goes. This is my first KP fanfic, but reading some of the other great fics based on the show gave me the motivation I needed to make a go at this one. As it stands right now, this is a feeler chapter/prologue. If the reviews don't warrant it, I won't bother continuing with it; but if demand is there, I'll hack away at it and hopefully come out with something worth reading. I can't promise a regular update schedule, but I will work at it as time allows, and update with the same devotion._

_Looking forward to hearing from the readers out there._

_-Deuce_


	2. Chapter One

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER: **The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

* * *

A/N: First off, I wanted to take a second to thank those of you that reviewed the prologue for this story; your support has convinced me that this may actually be worth pursuing... as is evident with Chapter One making its appearance. In this chapter, we'll get a bit more insight as to what exactly caused Shego (or Kate, as she's now known) to turn her back on Drakken and her life of crime. Hopefully it meets the readers' expectations.

Second: Be forewarned, this chapter does contain some mild language. I don't think it's gratuitous or worthy of upping the rating to "M," however it is there, and as such, fair warning has been given.

Without further ado: on with the story!

_**

* * *

**__**CHAPTER ONE**_

Kim Possible was a morning person—always had been, always would be, and nobody or nothing was going to change that. Nothing was more invigorating to the teenage dynamo than getting up at the first crack of dawn and going for a jog in the brisk morning air that was common in the Colorado foothills.

That being said, even morning people have the odd morning in which they'd rather just bury their heads under the covers for another hour or three, and the morning following her _very_ eventful graduation was one of those for the young hero, groaning in what one could easily call disappointment as the first rays of sunlight made their way across her face, causing her to scowl and roll over, turning her back to the offending piece of glass that dared allow light into her loft—and face-to-face with…

"Ron!" she exclaimed, snapping fully awake—not to mention fully upright in her bed. Sure enough, the tow-headed, freckled face of Ron Stoppable was laying right beside her, sound asleep, the covers pulled up to his chin.

Kim's mind went reeling. Not that she minded the idea of Ron sleeping beside her—in fact, that part she rather liked. No, what was bothering Kim was the sudden images of her father, the family patriarch, coming up through the hatch in her floor to announce breakfast in his usual jovial manner, followed by his bodily dragging the other man in her life from the bed, the room, the house… and directly into the capsule of a deep-space probe.

Forcing herself to take a couple of deep breaths, Kim regained enough poise to take stock of the situation. Judging by the angle which the sun's rays were entering her window, she knew it had to be early—early enough, if she was lucky, for her to wake Ron up and sneak him out of the house before anybody was the wiser. As her eyes wandered, they fell on her alarm clock, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief—_5:47._ Her dad wasn't likely to get up for the better part of an hour, giving her time to relax and get Ron out of there without having to rush things.

Slipping from the bed as quietly as she could (given how peaceful Ron looked, she didn't have the heart to wake him _just_ yet), Kim padded to the bathroom to answer the slightly more urgent call of nature that had made itself known once her adrenaline had quit pumping quite so hard. As she sat, she tried to replay the events that led to her and Ron sharing her bed for the night. _Okay, Agent Dawson picked up She—Kate; Ron and I went with our parents to dinner; we came back here… Ron and I went for a drive and got back at around midnight—Daddy didn't seem to mind that; we decided to watch a movie in the den…_

…and then it dawned on her. "And we fell asleep on the couch," she said aloud, flushing as she did so. _So how did we end up in my bed?_

Returning to the bedroom, she found her answer in the form of a note, folded up next to her alarm clock. Picking it up, Kim instantly recognized the flowy cursive of her mother before she even began reading it (Anne Possible was the only medical doctor Kim knew of with legible handwriting).

"_Kimmie, you've probably discovered by now that you've got a slightly bigger cuddle-buddy than Panda-roo tonight… DON'T FREAK OUT. Your Dad and I both know… we're the ones that brought you to your bed instead of leaving you to wake up with stiff necks in the morning (you were so out of it I didn't think you'd remember, hence the note). Don't get used to it by any means… but don't think it'll never happen again, either._

"_Breakfast will be at 9; the boys are camping with some friends and your father and I have every intention of sleeping in till at least 8… I suggest you two do the same._

"_Love, Mom."_

Smiling, Kim replaced the note where she found it on her nightstand and climbed back into bed. Ron had rolled over while she was gone, apparently trying to get away from the nuisance that was the sun's rays making their way steadily across his face; now laying a strip of golden light through his hair. As quietly and stealthily as she could, Kim drew the covers back over herself, pulling them just enough so there was none of the material between her and her boyfriend, allowing her to snuggle tightly into him, her right arm draped around his midsection. Sighing happily, she drifted off once again, more than content with her current sleeping arrangements.

* * *

Ron was vaguely aware that something was different. For one thing, the old bed in his room wasn't as comfortable as this little piece of heaven he was currently laying on. Second of all, he could have _sworn_ his mother had painted his room's walls in an off-white color—was it _eggshell_ or _frosty morning—_and not the powder-pink color of the walls he could barely see through his one half-open eye. Slowly, his brain started putting clues together. 

_Pink walls… _

_Who do I know that has pink walls?_

_That's easy—Kim's room is pink._

_Kim's room…_

_OH CRAP!_

Like a shot, Ron sat bolt upright, confirming his suspicion—not to mention his fear. _Oh, man, _he thought, _if Mister Doctor P comes up here, I'm on a one-way trip to Andromeda!_

Just about then, Ron's brain registered two more things: the arm wrapped firmly around his midsection and the soft, gentle voice of his girlfriend in his ear. "Calm down, there, tiger; it's okay," she said, placing her other hand gently against his chest.

"B-b-but, Kim, your dad—" Ron began, his eyes still wide in fear. Kim reached across him to where the note from her mother lay on the nightstand, unfolding it as she brought it to where he could see.

"It's okay, honey," she whispered, "Mom and Dad brought us up here, rather than us sleeping on the couch all night… it's not something we should get used to, but for today, it's okay." Feeling the tension leave Ron's body, she loosened her grip around his waist and on his chest, lying back down, her head propped on her arm. "Now lay back down here so I can cuddle with you while I've got the chance," she said, a soft smile gracing her face.

Ron returned the smile, settling back onto the mattress, turning himself to face his girlfriend. "Maybe I'm not supposed to get used to this… but it sure wouldn't be hard to," he said softly, slipping his left arm around Kim's waist and drawing her in closer. Kim smiled softly, humming an affirmative as she pressed her lips to his, running her right hand through his hair before moving it to rest on his cheek, her thumb gently tracing over the freckles under his left eye. A few lighter, soft kisses were traded between them before they once again settled into their pillows, their noses barely two inches apart.

"Ron?" Kim said softly, her hand once again gently caressing his cheek. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was still at least partly awake.

"Yeah, KP?" he replied, not bothering to open his eyes, content to savor the sensation of her hand on his skin.

"Do you remember what I said during my speech last night… when I was looking at you?"

"You mean about never being afraid to tell somebody how you feel about them?"

"Yeah," Kim replied, gently nuzzling Ron's nose with her own, "that."

Ron nodded his head—just enough that Kim would notice—and opened his eyes to look at her. "I do remember," he said, "and you're right. We shouldn't be afraid to tell the important people in our lives how we feel about them." Bringing his hands up, he cupped her face in them with the gentlest of touches, his fingertips brushing her hairline. "I love you, Kim Possible," he whispered, his eyes locked to hers.

"I love you too, Ron Stoppable," she replied, her green orbs misting over as she tipped her head towards him, kissing him tenderly one more time. "Now, what say we grab a little more shut-eye before we have breakfast with Mom and Dad?"

"Sounds like a bon-diggity idea to me," Ron whispered, a content smile on his face. With a soft kiss to her forehead, Ron turned around so his back was to Kim, allowing her to wrap her arm around his waist; her hand on his midriff, his hand automatically on top of hers, fingers interwoven. It was a matter of moments before the young couple was once again fast asleep, safe in each other's arms.

* * *

Doctor Anne Possible, like her daughter Kim, was a morning person—always had been, always would be. Unlike Kim, however, this morning was no exception. Almost as if they were on a timer, her eyes opened promptly at six-fifteen, revealing the dawn of the new day to her. At first she considered rolling over and snuggling into her husband, but instead decided to get up and get a bit of a headstart on breakfast… considering she had both of Middleton's bottomless pits to feed (Rufus' reputation almost matched that of his master). 

Silently slipping from under the covers, she grabbed her bathrobe from its hook on the inside of the bedroom door and slipped it on before exiting the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her, leaving James to his slumber. With a practiced ease that could only come from being a mother of three _and_ a world-famous neurosurgeon, Anne made her way through the house without a sound, her slippers silent against the hardwood floors.

As she made her way down the hall, Anne allowed herself a quick moment to savor the silence in the house… something that had been more or less a novelty in the past eighteen years. Not only did she and James start out with one "spirited" (as James liked to phrase it) daughter, but four and a half years later, a pair of rambunctious super-geniuses followed, making quiet time for she and her husband of twenty years next to non-existent—hence excursions like the one she and James took two years previous. Make no mistake, she loved her children—and, by extension, Ron—but every once in awhile it was nice to only have silence for a companion.

For what seemed like the millionth time, Anne's face spread into an involuntary grin as the thought of Kim and Ron together crossed her mind. She had watched the two grow up—mostly from within the walls of this very house—and knew that they were meant for each other. They complemented each other in ways many couples could only dream. Where Ron came up short, Kim would shine; and should Kim ever falter, Ron was always right there, two steps behind and ready to support her in any way he could. In just about every way conceivable, Kim and Ron were two halves of a whole—and seeing them together and as madly in love as they were made Anne's heart soar.

Unable to resist, Anne changed course from the kitchen; making a detour to the flight of stairs that led to the hatch of Kim's loft bedroom. Silently, she made her way up the stairs until her head was mere inches below the closed hatch. Listening for a moment, she waited until she was sure the two teenagers were still asleep before gently lifting the hatch just enough to peek into the bedroom; the scene meeting her eyes almost exactly what she expected. Smiling brightly, she raised the hatch further, ascending the stairs until she was high enough to get a better look.

They were lying facing the hatchway, spooned together, the covers only just above their waists. Kim was behind Ron, her right arm wrapped tightly around his midriff, his right hand atop hers. Anne wasn't completely sure, but she thought it looked like Kim's other arm was tucked under Ron's pillow, allowing them to be that much closer together as they lay. Anne was about to make her way back down the stairs and resume her previous journey to the kitchen when her daughter stirred, raising her head just enough to see over Ron.

"Mom?" she muttered in a voice thick with sleep.

"Good morning, Kimmie," Anne whispered, taking another step up, allowing her a clearer view of the younger redhead, not to mention allowing Kim a clearer view of the ear-to-ear smile that her mother was wearing.

Kim returned the smile, casting a quick glance at Ron to make sure he was still asleep before speaking again. "What're you doing up so early? I thought you and Dad were going to sleep in?"

"We were going to—your father's still dead to the world—but I was wide-awake, so I figured I'd get a start on breakfast. Even though Jim and Tim aren't home, Ron and Rufus will more than make up for them and I'd like to make sure everybody's got enough," Anne replied, her eyes moving fondly to the tow-headed young man as she spoke.

"Do you want me to come help you?" Kim asked.

"No!" Anne exclaimed, a little louder and hastier than she intended. While Kim Possible's website proudly proclaimed _I Can Do Anything,_ the phrase most definitely didn't extend to her abilities in the kitchen; her past attempt resulting in the only time the Middleton Fire Department had answered a call to the Possible residence that wasn't a direct result of her brothers' experiments. Quickly recovering, Anne continued. "I've got lots of time to have everything ready for when you get up. Just because I'm up early doesn't mean I'm going to move breakfast to seven-thirty. You just relax with Ron and come down for nine, okay?"

Kim once again smiled at her mother; the hastiness with which the Possible family matriarch had refused Kim's help was not lost on the young woman, but at the same time she would never deny that kitchen prowess was definitely more Ron's specialty than her own. Smiling, she merely nodded. "Okay," she said simply. Her mother returned the smile, and was about to head back down the stairs when her daughter spoke again. "Mom?" she whispered, almost too soft for Anne to hear.

"Yeah, Kim?"

"Thanks," she said, her smile even wider, "for everything."

Returning the smile, Anne said nothing; giving her daughter a quick wink as she moved to leave. Kim watched her mother slowly disappear through the hatchway, the smile never leaving her face. Only when the hatch's cover silently lowered did Kim settle back into the mattress, once again snuggling as close to Ron as she could, and within moments rejoined him in the arms of Morpheus.

* * *

Kim and Ron weren't the only ones enjoying peaceful slumber at the moment. Kate Gogh was still soundly asleep in the ladies' barracks at Global Justice, taking full advantage of the comforts of the facilities made available to her. For the first time in who knows how long, the former villainess was able to fully enjoy a soothing, hot shower, followed by a night of comfortable slumber in a high-quality bed. When her eyes fluttered open, her first instinct was to simply roll over and forget the fact she'd even woken up; but she knew she had a meeting with Dr. Director at seven-thirty. Gazing at the clock until her eyes focused, Kate saw the green _6:18_ glowing back at her and realized that if she didn't get up now, she wouldn't get up in time for the meeting. 

"Why do these stupid meetings always have to be so doggone _early?"_ she groused to herself, slipping out of the bed and making her way to the bathroom; luxuriating in the lush carpet under her bare feet—something else she hadn't had a chance to do since her Drakken days. One thing was for certain; going straight _did_ have its perks. _Speaking of perks, I should put a pot of coffee on before I do anything else,_ she mused, detouring to the kitchen to start the coffee brewing. When she'd arrived, Kate expected to be, at best, supplied with directions to the nearest commissary; she was pleasantly surprised to discover her quarters already stocked with various foodstuffs and necessities, allowing her to prepare her own meals. Thinking further, however, she realized that would have been the most prudent choice on their part if they wanted to keep an eye on her... a fact that she was well aware of.

Following a quick shower, Kate returned to the bedroom and started browsing through the closet, deciding on what to wear. Doctor Director had also taken the liberty of having Kate's quarters stocked with several outfits of various descriptions, giving her some options aside from what had quickly gained notoriety as her _Carmen Sandiego getup._ Finally, she selected a black two-piece suit and a green blouse (just because she wasn't Shego anymore didn't mean green wasn't still her favorite color) with a stylish cut that complemented her figure even better than she'd suspected. _Maybe Betty Director _does _have fashion sense,_ she thought, giving herself a quick once-over in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. _Now the hard part,_ she thought as she re-entered the bathroom, _what do I do with my hair? If I leave it alone, I'll still look like Shego… maybe I should brush it different?_

After several failed experiments with quick hairstyles (Kate soon discovered her hair didn't like to deviate from its natural part), frustration won out and her raven locks were soon in a ponytail at the base of her skull, held in place by a faux-jade hair clip. _I'll have to do something more permanent to it later; I can't wear ponytails all the time._ Exiting the bathroom, she checked the clock on the wall opposite the bathroom door. _Ten minutes to seven—perfect,_ she thought, a pleased smirk gracing her features as she returned to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of the freshly-brewed java. _Wow, it's actually good_ went through her mind as she sipped her first taste of the dark liquid. _Sure beats that bargain-basement stuff Little Boy Blue always made me get._

And so Kate Gogh sat, contemplating the somewhat unexpected turn her life had taken in the past seventy-two hours. Sure, she'd only spoken to Kim and made her move the previous night, but her plans had been in the making during the two days leading up to that point. In some ways, the process had—so far, anyway—been easier than she'd suspected. She expected a much harder time convincing the authorities that her desires to turn her life around were genuine, and not some scheme devised by Drakken to lull said authorities into a sense of security while he put together his next scheme. At the same time, she realized that Global Justice was probably still thinking along those lines, at least in part, until they had proof otherwise. Until then, Kate was sure that while she may have a comfortable barracks to stay in, she was, for all intents and purposes, a prisoner. She hoped that following her meeting with Dr. Director, and the subsequent one that evening that would include Kim and Ron, she would be able to convince them that her intentions were indeed true.

Halfway through her second cup of the surprisingly good coffee (it seemed to get even better with each sip), the doorbell to her barracks rang. _That's probably my ride,_ Kate mused as she went to answer the door. Taking a quick peek through the peephole, she saw Agent Dawson on the other side, confirming her suspicion. Kate took a breath, attempting to calm her nerves as she unlocked the door, opening it in one fluid motion.

"Good morning, Miss Gogh," Dawson said, smiling politely. "I'm here to escort you to your meeting with Doctor Director."

"And here I thought I was going to have to fend for myself," Kate replied, sounding almost like her former persona, but with a glint of humor in her eye to go with the smirk on her face.

"Hardly," Dawson replied with a chuckle. "If nothing else, the Global Justice complex is, for all intents and purposes, a maze; and getting lost on your way to a meeting with the top dog of Global Justice would _not_ be beneficial to your cause."

"I can only imagine," Kate said. "Just let me grab a pair of shoes and I'll be right with you."

"No problem," Dawson said, stepping inside the door to wait for Kate to find footwear suitable to wear with her suit. When she'd found the suit and blouse, she didn't notice shoes on the floor, but she brushed it off as not looking for shoes at the time.

This time, however, she _was_ looking for shoes… and there still weren't any in the closet. _She gets me a new wardrobe, but doesn't get shoes? Talk about no attention to detail._

"Miss Gogh?" Dawson called. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, I've got two weeks' worth of outfits in this place, and not a single damn pair of shoes!" Kate retorted, shaking her head as she re-emerged from the bedroom.

"Maybe they're in this closet?" Dawson ventured, nodding to a door on his immediate left, his hand already on the knob. "May I?"

"Be my guest," Kate replied, motioning with her hand at the same time. Dawson opened the door, and revealed another closet. Smaller than the one in the bedroom, this closet was almost empty save for the trench coat she had been wearing the previous night and various pairs of shoes on the floor… which the green-hued woman noticed almost immediately. "Leave it to me," she muttered, running a hand over her face as she grabbed a pair of black, modest heels and slipped them on, mumbling an embarrassed "thank-you" to Dawson as she did so.

"No problem," he replied, opening the door. "Shall we?"

"Sure," Kate exhaled, stepping out ahead of the special agent, "might as well get this over with."

"I really don't think you have anything to worry about," Dawson said as they made their way down the hall. "From what I've seen and heard, you're either truly turning over a new leaf or you're more deserving of an Oscar than Sally Field ever was."

"Thanks… I think," Kate replied, casting an awkward glance towards the man. "Hopefully Doctor Director takes me seriously when we get in there."

"Well, this meeting will be strictly between you and Doctor Director," Dawson said. "She wanted to have a preliminary meeting with you before the one with Miss Possible and Mister Stoppable."

"Probably wants to feel me out and see if I'm pulling the wool over Princess' eyes," Kate muttered. "Guess that's the price you pay when you're a villain as long as I've been."

"Especially one that was a hero and turned bad," Dawson said, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, that just slipped out."

"Hey, I made my bed," Kate said with a non-committal shrug, "I know what I was… both versions; but I also know what I am now."

"If you answer Doctor Director's questions the way you're talking to me now, I honestly think you won't have any problems whatsoever," Dawson offered with a smile. Kate saw that and smiled back.

"I sure hope so."

A few moments later, Special Agent Dawson and Kate arrived in front of a non-descript oak door; the only feature on it the brass nameplate that read _DR. BETTY DIRECTOR._ Dawson turned to Kate before knocking.

"I'll go in first and announce you, then I'll come out and send you in," he said. When Kate nodded, Dawson went ahead and knocked, entering when beckoned. Muffled voices could be heard briefly, then the door opened again, Dawson coming back out. "Go ahead; she's ready," was all he said, holding the door open for Kate. Nodding her thanks, the mint-skinned woman took a deep breath to calm her nerves before stepping across the threshold into Dr. Director's office.

"Good morning, Miss Gogh; I trust you slept well?" Director said once the door closed behind Kate.

"Yeah, I did," Kate replied, standing in the middle of the Spartan office. "Sure beat the hell outta the mouse-holes I had to deal with before."

"Please, have a seat," Director said, motioning to one of the three comfortable-looking chairs directly in front of her desk. Kate hesitated before slowly making her way to the center seat, her nerves still wound tight. After all, just because she _said_ she wanted to go straight didn't mean that Dr. Director—or anybody _else,_ for that matter—believed her… at least; not yet.

Trying to maintain an air of confidence, Kate settled into the chair as best she could, leaning back and crossing her legs in an attempt to appear cool and collected. "So… what say we get right to it?" she said, her voice steady. "Why the one-on-one before Kim and Ron get here?"

"I suspected you'd wish to get straight to brass tacks," Director said, a bemused smirk on her face. "Very well; the reason I've asked you here this morning is to get some preliminary information—namely, what caused you to decide it was time to put crime behind you?"

"I can't say for one hundred percent certain," Kate replied, "but the thought first crossed my mind after the run-in we had with Electronique about eight months ago. Granted, I got on my _own_ nerves sometimes with just how sweet that Miss Go was, but at the same time, there was something about that time in my life that seemed, I dunno… _right."_

"How do you mean?"

"Like I said, I'm not sure… but after I got zapped the last time and turned back into my old self… something just didn't seem right anymore. I just kept it stuffed inside and followed the status quo—Drakken would come up with a half-baked scheme, I'd make fun of him, Kim would come along, we'd fight for awhile, she'd finally kick our asses and we'd do it all over again.

"Two weeks ago that same scenario played itself out again… but it was different after Drakken's scheme went up in smoke. Instead of ranting, raving and screaming, he just went quiet; like he crawled into a shell." Kate chuckled before she continued. "At first I was thankful for the silence… he was always annoying, but he was the most annoying right after a failed scheme. After the Diablo's, he was almost impossible to be around.

"Anyway, like I said; at first, I was glad for the peace and quiet. He left me alone, and I didn't press the issue. I figured that once he needed me, he'd come get me and I'd do whatever I was asked to do."

"How long did it go on before you were suspicious?"

"About two weeks," Kate said, her shoulders slumping slightly, "then the silence got to be too much. I tried asking him what his new plans were, and he just mumbled something about _Kim Possible_ and _it's all her fault._ Instead of trying to decipher him, I just let it drop and went back to my usual hurry-up-and-wait mode."

"Something had to convince you that this was the course of action to take; what was it?"

"Well, like I said, I'd started wondering ever since the run-in with Electronique, but I was ignoring those bouts of conscience… and I was actually doing quite well with that up to the point where curiosity got the better of me and I decided to find out on my own just what the hell Drakken's game was.

"Three nights ago, I waited for him to go to bed—almost fell asleep myself waiting—then went to his workstation and started trying to dig up dirt on his plans. Normally he has his whole plan laid out on his computer before he does anything with it—don't ask me how somebody so meticulous at planning can always forget some stupid-ass detail that ends up biting him in the end; I'm not sure myself.

"Anyway, I got fishing around… and at first I found absolutely bupkus, which frustrated me even worse. I probably dug around for a half-hour before I found anything."

"Is what you found the deciding factor?"

"Yeah," Kate said, her expression darkening. "Drew Lipsky plans to kill Kim Possible."

Unlike Kim, Director did not burst into laughter when Kate shared this information with her. Instead, she merely sat behind her desk, hands folded in front of her, her own expression darkening. "Why would this make you decide to change sides, Miss Gogh? Everybody knows that you and Kim Possible have been bitter rivals ever since your first encounter."

"Kim asked the same question," Kate said with a slight chuckle, "and I'll give you the same answer I gave her: while we've fought tooth-and-nail several times over the past few years, not once did I ever want her dead. Truth be told… she was the only adversary I ever had that presented a challenge… and I loved it. Thrived on it, even… and to be honest, I think Kim did, too."

Again, Director sat in silence for a long time, her mind processing the information the woman formerly known as Shego had provided her with. When she finally spoke, it was with the same calm voice she'd used since Kate had entered her office. "I'll be honest," she began, choosing her words carefully, "when Kim first contacted me last evening to make her request, I was more than a bit skeptical. Quite frankly, Miss Gogh, your reputation precedes you in many circles; Global Justice included.

"However, given the answers you've provided to my questions, I'm more inclined to believe you than I was twelve hours ago. I trust Kim's judgment of character, but at the same time, I had to make sure you weren't taking advantage of her inherent trust by merely _acting_ like you wanted to change your ways."

Kate nodded, understanding the older woman's stance. As Director had said, her reputation preceded her; and likely would for a long time to come. Even if she was successful in proving her desire to change her ways and live an honest life from here on out, it would be some time before she won the trust of all those she'd wronged before. "Thank you," was all she could say, "for believing me."

"I'm not what one would call a proud woman," Director replied, "but one thing I _do_ pride myself on is my judge of character. I can usually tell if somebody's trying, quite frankly, to bullshit me; and I don't feel that in this case. Having said that… if you _are,_ you will suffer the complete and utter wrath of Global Justice—once you've been given your Academy Award."

Kate nodded again, this time with a bit more confidence as she saw the glint of humor in Director's good eye. At the same time, she realized that what she'd been told wasn't a threat, but a promise—one that she was sure Director would have no problem in carrying out should it come to light that Kate really _was_ feeding everybody a cock-and-bull story. "No need to nominate me for Oscar night," she said, smiling, "but I wouldn't mind getting a chance to go to one of the after-parties."

"At least you've still got the wit Shego was famous for," Director laughed, then continued; the smile still gracing her features. "I think we're done here. I'll have Agent Dawson escort you back to your barracks until we meet again tonight, when Miss Possible and Mister Stoppable join us." Standing, she motioned for Kate to follow her to the door, where Agent Dawson was waiting just outside. Director instructed the agent of her wishes, and shook Kate's hand, thanking her for the information she'd provided before sending the two on their way, watching until they turned a corner before returning to her office.


	3. Chapter Two

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:** The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

* * *

**_CHAPTER TWO_**

Señor Senior Senior, an abundantly wealthy, elderly Spaniard of rather small stature was seated at the head of the mahogany table in the boardroom of his island estate. Normally, the meetings held here involved his own board of directors, however this one was different. To his left sat an even more diminutive German with jaundiced skin and what appeared to be an ashcan on his head, with eyeholes cut out of it and a notch in the rim for his nose and mouth. Across from the German—Professor Dementor by name—sat another man; taller, wearing a dark suit, blue shirt and tie, his longish black hair pulled into a short ponytail at the base of his neck (rather offsetting his receding hairline). Under his left eye he wore a scar of unknown origin. His oddest feature, however, was his skin: years ago, a rather odd laboratory accident had left his skin somehow tinged blue—something he'd never managed to rectify (not that he ever really tried to). 

Now, a few things were rather weird about this meeting of the minds. First of all, Drew Lipsky—a.k.a. "Dr. Drakken"—and Prof. Dementor had always been bitter rivals; often helping Kim and Ron out by bickering amongst themselves and generally throwing each other's stride off just enough for Team Possible to finish the job and send them both up the river. Secondly, other than one incident that involved Monkey Fist and Duff Killigan, Drakken _always_ worked alone—Shego notwithstanding. However, Drakken's plans had never been quite as ambitious as the latest endeavor he was about to embark on.

What that was, however, nobody but the blue-hued scientist knew. All they did know for sure was he had contacted both of them and requested a meeting, making the added request to the multi-billionaire Senior that the meeting be held at his palatial home. Intrigued and somewhat curious as to what Drakken was up to, the old man conceded.

"Alright, we're all here," Dementor said, his Germanic accent cutting through the silence, "now would you please tell us _why we are here?"_

"Very well, _Professor_ Dementor," Drakken said, emphasizing the title with ample sarcasm. "Over the years, you and I have had our problems with each other, correct?"

"Yes," Dementor replied warily, "and your point is being what?"

"While we have had our differences, we do both share a common goal… not to mention a common obstacle, yes?"

Dementor's hands involuntarily flexed into fists as his face contorted in barely-controlled rage. "Kim Possible," he said simply through clenched teeth.

"Precisely," Drakken replied. "We've both been hindered in our efforts several times by this young woman and her buffoon sidekick—whom, I might add, is no longer as laughable as he once was. Recently, I was once again foiled by those little pests in my last attempt at world domination, and quite frankly, I've had enough of it."

"Haven't we all?" Senior interjected, rolling his eyes as he spoke. "She's cost me a fortune in spinning tops of doom; I have to have them either repaired or replaced every time she sets foot on my island."

Drakken ran a hand over his face, pausing briefly to squeeze the bridge of his nose. "As I was saying," he said in exasperation, "I've had enough of that redheaded twit always ruining my plans… so I've decided the best course of action is to neutralize the immediate threat."

"So you wish to capture Kim Possible and _then_ take over the world?" Dementor ventured.

"Not quite," Drakken replied, "but close. However I will need help, which is why I've arranged for this meeting. I'm hoping that one—if not both—of you will assist me in realizing my latest plans."

"And they are…?" Senior prodded, his hand extended in front of him, prompting Drakken to fill in the blank.

"I want Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable _dead,"_ Drakken replied, slamming his fist on the table to emphasize the statement. "No more capturing, no more trying to outwit or outsmart them; I want to eliminate them from the equation once and for all."

"Mixed reactions" would be the best way to describe how the two men listening to Drakken responded to his bold proclamation. Once the initial shock wore off, Dementor rubbed his hands together in glee; Senior, on the other hand, seemed rather disappointed in the blue-skinned villain, his head hanging in sadness. Drakken noticed this at once and asked him why.

"I'm afraid I cannot be a part of this dastardly scheme," Senior replied, "for as much as I would like to take over the world; at the same time I do not wish any lasting harm to either Miss Possible or Mister Stoppable. I do not wish to harm anybody… I just want to take over the world."

"Very well," Drakken said, then turned his attention to the vertically-challenged German. "What about you, Dementor? What say you?"

Dementor looked Drakken directly in the eye, allowing the mad scientist to see the dangerous gleam in his own beady eyes. "Count me in, _Herr Doktor,"_ he growled. "It will be a pleasure to assist you in the demise of Team Possible."

Drakken's lips spread into a grin, as if he knew what Dementor's answer would be before he heard it. "Excellent," he said, his voice silky smooth, "I knew I could count on you." Rising from his seat, he turned to the elderly Spaniard, his hand extended. "As you do not wish to assist us, Señor, we will no longer impose ourselves on you. Thank you for the use of your boardroom for this preliminary meeting."

Senior did not move to shake his hand, instead glaring at Drakken with what could be almost described as disgust and contempt. "I once believed you to be a man of honor," he growled, "however; speaking with you today I realize such is not the case."

"People change over time, Señor… not always in the way one would expect," Drakken said cryptically, lowering his hand. "Come, Professor… let us adjourn to my own facilities, so we may begin our preparations."

* * *

Back in Middleton, Wade Load was once again in his room, surrounded by computer monitors; some showing RSS feeds from various news services, others displaying data from law-enforcement agencies across the globe. His main monitor, however, was what held his attention at the moment. One of his 'operatives' in the field (all of Team Possible's outside operatives were little more than volunteers that passed along tidbits that could be beneficial to their cause) informed him via secure email that Señor Senior, Senior was hosting Professor Dementor and a Drew Lipsky on his tropical island estate… other than that, no information available. Groaning, he ran his hands over his face in a clear show of exasperation. 

"It starts," he mumbled to himself, his eyes darting almost subconsciously to the monitor that showed the status of one of Kim's favorite tools. Unfortunately, thanks to a rather potent EMP blast in her last encounter with Drakken and Shego—before her defection to the good side, that is—the battle suit was beyond useless, and unless Wade could figure out what exactly went wrong, it was doomed to stay that way.

Instead of bothering Kim with the news straightaway, Wade instead decided it would be a better idea to try to get some additional information… and he had a pretty good idea where to start. Turning to the monitor he had set aside for his communications console; he typed a rapid volley of commands and was almost immediately rewarded with the face of one Dr. Betty Director.

"Good morning, Mister Load," the woman said, her demeanor once again pleasant, yet professional. "To what do I owe the pleasure this time? Surely Kim doesn't have _another_ request for a former villain's asylum?"

Wade chuckled at the remark. "Not quite, Doctor," he said, "this time I'm contacting you for some extra information—but, speaking of former villains, she might come in handy, too."

"Something's tipped you off, hasn't it?" Director stated simply, her hands folded on the desk in front of her as she awaited Wade's response.

"Affirmative," he replied, "I received a tip from one of my contacts in Greece that Little Boy Blue, along with the German Goofball, are the _prestigious_ guests of our favorite Spaniard."

"Dementor _and_ Drakken in the same room without tearing each other's heads off? Now that's interesting in itself," Director said. "What do you suggest we do?"

"For now, nothing," Wade said. "As it stands, there's nothing going on; Kim and Ron are supposed to meet with you and Kate this evening, it might be worth bringing up at that time, but for now I don't see much point. Like you said, Dementor and Drakken together is kind of like oil and water mixing… but then again, who would have thought we'd be talking to Shego like old friends?"

"You do have a point, Mister Load," Director said with a chuckle. "I'll have one of our intel operatives take up that piece of information and see if anything comes of it, or if we'll have to wait for their next appearance."

"Works for me," Wade said. "I'll put the call out to a few more of my contacts; have them keep their eyes open."

"We'll keep you posted, Wade," Director said with a smile. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Hey, if we don't work together we won't get _anything_ accomplished."

"Agreed," Director stated, signing off with another promise to keep Wade apprised of the situation as any details made themselves available.

Wade looked at the clock in the taskbar of his main monitor and was slightly surprised to see it read nine AM. Stretching, he got out of the orthopedic computer chair Kim had given him last Christmas ("You've kept us safe over the years; the least we can do is make your job that much more comfortable" was her reasoning behind it) and made his way to the kitchen to join his parents for breakfast.

* * *

"Ron, this has most definitely got to be one of your better ideas," Kim sighed happily. Not long after breakfast, he had made the suggestion that they pack up his car and head out to Lake Middleton for the afternoon… just the two of them, a blanket, a picnic basket and an old radio. 

They'd already partaken of the picnic lunch Ron had thrown together, and were lounging on the blanket, watching the clouds drift overhead, Kim laying perpendicular to Ron, her head resting on his stomach. Conversely, Ron's right hand was resting on her tummy, her hand lightly resting on top of his. On the edge of the blanket near Kim's feet, the old radio was tuned to an easy listening/oldies channel.

"I thought so, anyway," Ron replied, his thumb trapping hers to squeeze it gently. Kim turned her head slightly to look up at the young man she was currently using as a pillow, admiring the man he was turning into almost by the day. It seemed like not that long ago he was nothing more than a bumbling sidekick that served as little more than a distraction and moral support. More recently, though, he'd begun to work harder—not only on missions, but in school as well. His senior year had almost been a coming-of-age; he'd managed to bring his grade-point average to a more respectable level, his SAT score had cracked the one-thousand mark (albeit barely), and he'd been accepted to the new culinary arts program at Upperton University. On missions, he was serving less of a distraction role and more of a support role; often holding his own in hand-to-hand combat. During downtime between missions, he'd taken to training with Kim and perfecting his technique; as well as taking more time to meditate and reflect on his lessons from his time at the Yamanouchi School in Japan. If she hadn't seen it for herself, Kim almost wouldn't believe that the Ron Stoppable she was currently laying with was the same Ron Stoppable she'd taken on her first mission over five years ago.

A grunting noise that came from Ron caused Kim to snap out of her little reverie. Rolling onto her side, she lifted her head up just enough to get a good look at his face—confirming her suspicion. Eyes closed, left arm propped under his head, his right arm limply lying across Kim's midriff, the warm summer sun shining on them… the perfect recipe to put one Ronald Dean Stoppable to sleep. Smiling, she swung her body around so she was parallel to him, propping herself up on her left elbow. When she moved, Ron's arm unconsciously moved to embrace her shoulders, keeping her close to him. _He's so cute when he's sleeping,_ she thought, the fondest smile gracing her features. Unable to resist any longer, she leaned in and softly pressed her lips to his, her right hand moving to run through his blond locks.

Kim's kiss had the desired result. At first there was no reaction from the young man, but soon she felt his arm tighten around her shoulders, his other arm moving from behind his head to complete the embrace. To facilitate the action, Kim shifted so she was lying on top of Ron, her left hand moving to caress his cheek, the kiss deepening with each passing second.

Finally, the necessity of oxygen caused Kim to come up for air, albeit regretfully. Only when her lips broke contact with Ron's did his eyes open, the chocolate-brown orbs locking instantly on Kim's emerald ones. "Hey," he said simply, his hand leaving her back so he could rake his fingers through her auburn tresses.

"Hey," she replied, nuzzling his nose with her own. Ron took the proximity as a prime opportunity to steal another kiss; this one not as passionate as the last, but more than making up for it with tenderness. "Have I told you lately," she whispered as they parted, her lips brushing his as she spoke, "just how much I love you?"

"No," he replied with a chuckle, "but I have a pretty good idea."

"Good," she said, kissing the tip of his nose before sliding down just enough to lay her head on his chest, directly over his heart. For a long while they remained like that, neither of them speaking, just basking in each other's presence and the soft strains of music over twenty years old coming from the radio.

"You really think Shego wants to go straight?" Ron suddenly asked out of the blue.

"My gut and heart say yes, but my head says it doesn't add up," Kim replied, slipping off him in favor of lying on her back beside him. "I mean, not a month ago she put me in the ER with two broken ribs and a sprained ankle, yet now here we are, going to meet her and Dr. Director tonight and talk about taking Drakken down once and for all." Both of them lay in contemplative silence for several moments before Kim spoke again. "What do you think?"

"I think she's on the level," Ron stated simply. "Don't ask me why, I just think she is."

"Well, we'll get a better idea tonight when we meet with her," Kim said, looking at her wrist-mounted Kimmunicator. "Speaking of which, we should probably go get ready."

Almost grudgingly, Ron agreed as he rolled to his stomach before pushing himself into a standing position. He extended his hand to Kim, who took it without hesitation and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. In short order they had their picnic gear stowed away in the not-so-spacious trunk of Ron's ten-year-old Mustang (as much as Kim loved her car, sometimes it was just more fun to take Ron's convertible) and were on their way back to prepare for the upcoming meeting.

Neither of them noticed the dark figure watching them from the bushes nearby.

* * *

Considering she pretty much had the entire day to herself, Kate decided she would take the opportunity to start experimenting with her hair again. Sure, she had one of the longest, most luxurious manes of thick, black hair that anybody had ever seen… but that was part and parcel of the problem. If she left it to its natural devices, she would forever look like the persona she wanted to leave behind. Something had to be done… but what? 

Two hours after she'd started, Kate was starting to get frustrated. Sitting in front of the vanity in her bedroom, she'd tried almost every trick she knew to get her hair to do something different. She already knew a quick brushing in a different direction made her look more like a poodle than anything, so that was out. Using a straightening iron was an option, but her hair was so long and thick it would take over an hour every morning just to maintain the look… no good.

Finally, Kate's short temper got the better of her. Instead of messing around with impossibly thick, slightly wavy hair that could be used to protect her dignity if she so wished, she picked up the telephone and called Agent Dawson, the agent assigned to be her contact if she needed anything while she was a "guest" of Global Justice.

"Ah, Miss Gogh; to what do I owe this pleasure?" Dawson said when she identified herself.

"You said this place is like a self-contained city, right?" she snapped, perhaps a bit more harshly than she intended.

"Oh, absolutely; we've got all the amenities of any of the mid-sized cities," he replied good-naturedly. "What do you need?"

"Point me to the nearest hairdresser," she said simply. "I'm overdue for a new look."

"You're a lot closer to one than you may think," he said. "Just go out your front door, turn left, then right at the second intersection. Best hairdresser on staff… and she accepts walk-ins."

"Thanks," she said, hanging up the phone.

She was about to turn toward the door when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Stopping, she moved to the mirror and gazed at the reflection that stared back at her. It had been so long since she'd had anything more than a trim to remove split ends that she wondered if she'd even recognize herself when the hairdresser finished with her. Almost as if she were saying goodbye, she ran both hands through her mane of raven locks, raking her fingers from her scalp right to the ends (which were starting to split again). Sighing, she merely shook her head and struck out in search of the coiffeuse.

Two hours later, Kate returned to her condo-like accommodations looking like a different woman. If it weren't for her mint-like complexion, one would never know she was the woman formerly known far and wide as Dr. Drakken's accomplice, Shego. Even though the hairstylist she went to see was closer to Kim's age than her own, she knew her craft well. Kate's hair had gone from a long, flowing mane of ebony that reached her backside to a layered look that only went to her shoulder blades.

_That girl is a miracle-worker,_ Kate thought as she admired her new look in the bathroom mirror. When she'd first got there, she didn't know at all what she wanted to do; she knew for certain she wasn't ready to hack it _all_ off, but at the same time something different had to be done. As soon as she saw the end result, though, Kate knew she'd made the right choice. _At least I don't look quite so much like Shego anymore… but I don't look like Miss Go, either. _That last thought prompted an involuntary shudder to go up Kate's spine. While it was kinda nice to get to know Kim better, at the same time the sickly-sweet Miss Go was just about enough to send her into convulsions.

Glancing at her watch, Kate realized it was almost time to head back to Dr. Director's office for the meeting with Kim and Ron. Changing back into her black suit and green blouse (she'd doffed them in favor of a T-shirt and jeans when she went for her haircut), she once again called Agent Dawson and informed him she was ready.

* * *

Kim and Ron were already waiting with Dr. Director when Agent Dawson escorted Kate into the conference room. Rather than walk her to her seat like a trainer leading a dog, Dawson merely stepped inside and announced her before retreating back outside the room, leaving Kate to her own devices. 

"Good evening, Miss Gogh," Director said, rising from her seat at the head of the table. "Please, take a seat and we can get this over with." As she spoke, she motioned to a comfortable-looking boardroom chair to her left, immediately across from Kim. Maintaining an air of confidence, she made her way to the proffered seat and sank into it, folding her hands on the table in front of her and facing Kim.

"New look?" Kim asked simply, the hint of a smile on her face.

"Something like that," Kate replied cryptically. _Hello Pot, Kettle calling,_ she thought to herself, noting Kim wasn't wearing her "mission clothes," as she liked to call them. In place of the purple T-shirt and black pants Kate was accustomed to seeing, Kim was wearing a conservative, yet stylish charcoal skirt-suit, paired with a periwinkle-blue blouse. Ron, meanwhile, was wearing a red dress shirt and black pants, a dark blue tie around his neck. _Looks like they dressed to impress tonight._

"Now that we're all here," Director interjected, bringing Kate back to the here and now, "shall we get started? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can all go home."

"So what's the point of all this, anyway?" Kate asked, turning to face Director. "I've already told Kim my story, and I've already told you my story… isn't this kind of redundant?"

"Well, not exactly," Director replied. "I was hoping that perhaps you could assist us—Team Possible and Global Justice inclusive—in the apprehension of Drew Lipsky once and for all. The information you've provided us with already has proven to be rather disturbing, and we're hoping we can incarcerate Drakken before he gets a chance to execute his plan—no pun intended."

"I really don't know if there's anything more I can tell you that will be of any help," Kate said, dropping her eyes to look at the table in front of her. "I've already told you just about everything I know."

"Kate," Kim said, reaching across the table and placing her hand gently on Kate's arm, "you worked with Drakken for a long time… surely there's something you can give us that would help us take him down?"

Kate looked at Kim's hand where it touched her arm, then looked up to meet the redhead's gaze. Kim was almost taken aback at just how hard the mint-skinned woman's eyes had become… it was almost like they had been bamboozled and Shego was back. When she spoke, however, it was clear whose side Kate Gogh was on.

"All I can tell you, Kim, is I want to be there to help take that son of a bitch down," she growled.

"I still don't understand," Ron said, "not a month ago you two almost put each other in traction; now you're on the same side?"

"Waking up and smelling the coffee can do that to a person, Ron," Kate said, turning to look at the young man beside Kim. "Maybe that Attitudinator thingamabob had something to do with it, but either way, I can't in good conscience sit by while Drew tries to have Kim killed."

"So he definitely does want me dead?" Kim said, her face and voice neutral.

"Yeah," Kate replied, "the little bit I did find pretty much spelled it out. He wants to kill you and put you out of his misery."

"We didn't get into much detail about this earlier, Miss Gogh—"

"Kate, please."

"—very well, Kate," Director continued, "but what exactly did you find on Drakken's computer that told you he wanted to kill Kim?"

"Well, like I told you before, he normally has his plans laid out to the smallest detail—except, of course, the one that always turns the deal sour," Kate said with a wry chuckle, taking a sip from the water glass placed in front of her before continuing. "This time, though, there was hardly anything. The only thing I found of any interest was a list of all of Kim's normal hangouts, along with a class itinerary for when Kim goes to school this fall."

"That's really not enough to accuse somebody of attempted murder, Kate," Kim said.

"Yeah, I know," Kate sighed, her shoulders slouching. She knew her evidence was sketchy at best, but she wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she didn't at least share what she did know with Kim.

Kim, meanwhile, sat in awe of the scene before her. As she'd alluded to, less than four weeks previous she and Kate (still Shego at the time) were engaged in one of the fiercest battles they'd ever had… yet even then Kim could tell something was amiss. While they were fighting, Kim had caught something in the look on Shego's face that told her she wasn't taking her usual pleasure in the fight that she normally did… not to mention the verbal barbs they normally traded weren't nearly as frequent. Then, as if a light bulb went on, Kim had a revelation.

"There was something else, wasn't there, Kate?" she asked.

At first there was no reaction from the green-hued woman across the table, making Kim doubt her hunch. Slowly, Kate's head raised, her eyes locking on Kim's for a long period. Finally, the older woman nodded. "Yeah, there was," she whispered, looking back to her hands. "That was the straw that broke the camel's back, too."

"Did Drakken order you to kill me?"

"Yeah, he did," Kate replied, a wry chuckle escaping her lips. "Stupid ass thought I wanted you dead as much as he does."

"Which brings us back to why you don't," Director said. "You said that you enjoy fighting with Kim, but you don't wish her any harm? That seems rather contradictory."

"I said I didn't want her dead," Kate corrected. "Yeah, I like trying to take Princess down a peg once in awhile, but nothing that won't heal."

"So it's more a matter of ego than anything… am I right?" Director ventured, the eyebrow over her good eye quirked knowingly.

Kate couldn't help but chuckle at Director's statement. "Got it in one, Doc," she said simply, leaning back in her seat so she could look equally at Kim and Director. "One of my major faults is the simple fact that I have to know I'm the best at what I do."

"Well, Kate, for what it's worth… you _were_ the best when you were teamed up with Drakken," Kim said. "Of all the bad guys I've tangoed with, you're the one that I had the hardest time with… ever notice how we usually ended up in a draw?"

"Yeah, I figured as much," Kate said. "I mean, really; between two mad scientists, a genetically-altered kung-fu dude that thinks he's a monkey, a mad golfer and a hobby villain, what chance did any of them have?"

"Don't forget a geneticist with a delusional obsession with Cuddle Buddies," Ron interjected.

"Ugh, I tried to forget about her," Kim muttered, running a hand over her face. As much as she liked her Panda-Roo, she wasn't nearly as fanatical as the bespectacled woman they'd come to know as DNAmy.

"Sorry," Ron said sheepishly.

"As much as I trust both my own and Kim's judgment," Director said, "there is one question that's been pressing on my mind ever since this whole situation began. Kate, I honestly do believe that you've been nothing but honest with us ever since we spoke the evening of Kim's graduation, but I'm afraid I still have to ask you this question."

"Shoot," Kate said, already with a good idea of what the question would be.

"As adamant as you've been about wanting to help apprehend Drew Lipsky, how do we know you won't revert to your old ways once he _is_ apprehended?"

Kate sighed, running a hand through her hair before answering. "Honestly… I don't have any way to answer that for you," she said in barely more than a whisper. "All I can give you is my word."

"That's good enough for me," Kim stated. Both Kate and Dr. Director looked at her suddenly.

"Okay, I gotta ask… why is it, all of a sudden, you trust me so completely?" Kate asked, not bothering to mask the surprise with which Kim's statement struck her.

"Well, maybe it's one of my faults," Kim said, "but in all honesty, I don't see any reason not to trust you. You've come to us at great risk to yourself and made an honest effort to warn me. You've answered all of our questions without trying to dodge any of them—sure, you've hesitated, but I think that was more to make sure you answered as best you could. Way I see it, the least we could do is give you the benefit of the doubt for now."

"Are you willing to vouch for her?" Director asked Kim, turning her gaze to the redhead.

"I am," Kim replied, nodding.

"I feel I should remind you of the ramifications of your voucher should Kate decide to deceive us and go back to her wicked ways."

"I honestly don't think there's any danger of that," Kim said, also standing. "Like I said, she wouldn't have done this if she wasn't sincere, considering the danger she's put herself in. Not only is Drakken looking to kill me; there's a pretty good chance that he would like to throw Kate in that same pile."

"Which is why I want to help take him down," Kate added, her trademark scowl back on her face. "I might be a lot of things, but one thing I'm sure as hell not is a murderer."

"So what's our best bet?" Kim asked, turning to Kate. "Do we try to take him down first, or should we wait for him to show himself and try to catch him?"

"Considering your track record with going on the defense, I think this time you should try going on the offensive," Kate replied. "I can help you try to track him down."

"We may have a lead that will help," Director added, looking at Kate. "We received intelligence from Mr. Load that Drakken met with Professor Dementor and Señor Senior, Senior earlier today; no word yet as to whether or not an alliance has been formed or whether they're still there or not."

"Terrific," Kate muttered, "now we've got Napoleon Hitler and Pancho Villa to worry about, too."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Director said. "While it wouldn't surprise me if Dementor and Lipsky put their differences aside in favor of realizing a common objective, somehow I can't see Senior jumping on that bandwagon."

"What makes you say that?" Kate asked. She, for one, could see no reason why the Spanish duo wouldn't want in on the action.

"Well, the Seniors are what one would call an… eccentric bunch," Kim said. "Sure, Papa Pedro might want to take over the world, but his main motivation is as a hobby. The fact that I keep foiling his plans just gives him a challenge—truth be told, I wouldn't be surprised he does it more to see if he can beat _me_ at this point."

"And Dementor…?"

"Every bit as loco as Drakken… maybe a bit worse."

"Okay, so now we've got the two craziest of the crazies teaming up… even though they normally hate each other's guts," Ron said, running a hand through his unruly blond hair. "Could this day get _any_ better?"

Kim took Ron's hand and gave it a tender squeeze. "It's not so bad, Ron," she said, smiling. "At least, no worse than we've faced before, anyway."

"That's where I disagree," Director said. "I would feel much better if you two were better protected than you currently are."

"What do you mean?" Kim asked suspiciously.

"I really think you two should seriously consider arming yourselves," the elder woman said.

"No way, out of the question!" Kim exclaimed. "I've gone this long without resorting to anything more than my martial arts skills and non-lethal tools; I'm not about to start now."

"Kim," Kate interjected, walking around the table to stand directly in front of the younger redhead, "this isn't the usual Dr. Drakken we're talking about here. This guy wants to kill you... and he's not screwing around anymore. No more complicated death rays or magnets that try to re-assemble Pangaea; and as talented as you are, I can guarantee even you can't outrun a bullet."

"Having a gun won't help me dodge bullets, Kate," Kim replied testily.

"Maybe not, but it'll cut down on their chances, too… especially if they miss on the first shot."

Kim seemed to consider that final statement from the mint-hued woman in front of her; however in the end she stood her ground. "No," she said firmly, "I will _not_ carry a gun. I've never needed one before, why should I start now?"

"Because, Kim… you're an adult now," Director said with a sense of finality.

"And just what, exactly, does that have to do with anything?"

"Human nature," Ron ventured.

"Precisely," Director replied, nodding at Ron as she spoke. "Because Kim is no longer a minor, the unwritten rules of engagement concerning her have changed. She's now 'fair game,' so to speak."

"I still don't think I need to carry a gun," Kim said resolutely. "If I do, then I'm no better than they are."

"Well, I can't force you," Director said, disappointment in her voice. "However, if you do have a change of heart, let me know and we'll look into having you outfitted and properly trained."

"Fair enough," Kim replied with a nod. Nothing more was required from Team Possible at the time, so she and Ron were dismissed.

As they made their way to where Kim's car was parked, her mind was racing. She didn't think she would have a change of heart over carrying a firearm, but felt it best to accept the offer to appease the law-enforcement official.

Little did she know how wrong she was.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! This chapter was quite a bit harder to hack out than the first two._

I wanted to take a quick moment to thank everybody that's reviewed so far; I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations (well, quality-wise, anyway; I'd hate to be predictable lol). Feel free to leave another review on this chapter; constructive criticism/comments welcome... flames will be hosed :p 


	4. Chapter Three

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__ The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental._

_**

* * *

**_

**_CHAPTER THREE_**

"Hey, Kim!" Monique said in her usual cheerful manner as the redhead arrived for her shift at _Club Banana._

"Hey, Monique," Kim replied, her lack of enthusiasm obvious as she dropped her purse rather unceremoniously behind the counter. "Before you ask, no, Ron and I did not break up last night… that's not what's got me tweaked."

"Mission stuff?" the African-American girl asked in a sympathetic tone. She hadn't seen Kim since the night of the graduation, preferring to give her a chance to have a private grad celebration with Ron. Besides, she knew she would get a chance to talk to her at work.

Kim nodded. "It's like my entire world's just been flipped on its ear," she lamented, signing into the second cash register. "First, I find out one of our biggest enemies has switched sides, then I find out her old partner has decided he wants to kill me, and to top it all off GJ wants me to start carrying a gun. A _gun,_ Monique!" she repeated, as if it were obvious the idea was ludicrous.

"Man, that is an awful lot to absorb in twenty-four hours," Monique said. "Did GJ give you any particular reason why they want you to start packing?"

"Something about me being _fair game_ now," Kim replied, rolling her eyes. "Just because my eighteenth birthday was a month ago, apparently the rules have changed."

"Welcome to life, girl," Monique said with a shrug. "Like it or not, a lot of things change when you turn eighteen."

"And just what, pray tell, is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means, Kim, that even though you were a thorn in a lot of people's sides… you were still a _kid,"_ Monique said. "Now that you've passed that all-important eighteenth birthday, none of the 'she's just a kid' stuff will stick anymore," Monique explained, her wealth of worldly knowledge obviously not limited to the Middleton High rumor mill. "Sure, some of 'em might still see you in that light, but I'll bet there's just as many that were waiting for you to come of age so they could take you out without any extra moral dilemmas… even most crooks can't kill a kid."

"So you're saying that I could be a target now?" Kim asked, eyeing Monique with suspicion.

"It's a definite possibility," Monique replied. "And to be perfectly honest with you… I don't think that you defending yourself would be such a bad idea."

"_Et tu, Moné?"_ Kim groaned, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "I mean, come on! I know sixteen styles of kung-fu! What do I need a gun for?"

"Because they'll have 'em, too… and you could know sixteen _thousand_ styles of kung-fu, but none of 'em will help you in a gunfight."

"Y'know what, Monique… just forget I even brought it up," Kim growled, moving to straighten a pile of T-shirts on display. "Apparently I'm the only one that thinks killing somebody is a bad thing."

"Nobody said you had to _kill_ people, Kim," Monique began, but the fiery redhead just held up her hand.

"Drop it, Monique," she said, her voice almost dangerously low. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay," the fashionista replied meekly, moving to sort the day's order.

During the remainder of the day, the two high-school grads went about their duties without any further mention to Kim's dilemma, preferring to keep their conversation light. Monique knew that when Kim Possible was thoroughly tweaked, she was not one that anybody wanted to be around; therefore she did everything she could to keep the teen hero from going nuclear right in the middle of _Club Banana._ Oh, she didn't intend to let the subject drop completely, but she knew that on the job was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. She would get her chance to confront Kim on the issue—she just had to bide her time.

Her chance came sooner than she expected. Roughly halfway through their shift, Monique asked her friend what she and Ron had planned for the evening.

"Nothing," Kim replied. "Ron's got the late shift at _Smarty Mart_ tonight, so he won't be getting out of there till probably eleven or twelve."

"Got anything planned?" Monique asked nonchalantly.

"Nah, I'll probably just go home and take it easy; after the last couple of days, I could use a little downtime," Kim said.

"Well, why don't you come over when you get out of here? We'll put on the sappiest chick-flick we can find and pig out on popcorn," Monique suggested. "We'll make it a true girls' night."

Kim seemed to mull on the idea for a few moments before looking at her best friend with a smile. "Throw in a pint of fudge-ripple ice cream and you got yourself a deal," she said.

"My place; seven sharp."

"I'll be there."

* * *

Ask anybody from the Midwestern United States what they would call the most awe-inspiring sight in the world, and almost without exception, the answer would be the same: _The Grand Canyon._ At 277 miles in length, with a span ranging anywhere from four to eighteen miles and a depth of over a mile in places, the mighty gorge carved by the Colorado River could hardly be considered a "little ditch." Many had lost their lives navigating its treacherous path; either falling victim to its sheer rock faces, or else claimed by the Colorado River's unpredictable rapids. 

However, not everybody that visited the Grand Canyon went for the breathtaking scenery. Some had more devious intentions… like the two men currently walking across a less-traveled part of the canyon floor.

"Doctor," the shorter of the two said, his voice clearly expressing annoyance, "we've been walking for two hours now! How much further do we have to go?"

"Patience, my dear Professor," the taller man replied, tipping his hat lower on his head, "it's not far now. Ah, here we are." Stopping in his tracks, Drakken motioned for Dementor to follow him as he approached what, on first glance, appeared to be a solid rock face. On closer inspection, however, the diminutive German noticed an opening behind the craggy outcrop; hidden almost perfectly in the shadows of the rock. Dementor watched as Drakken stepped through the opening with ease, following the taller man only after he'd passed through the opening completely, allowing Dementor a clear path through the passageway.

Once inside, Professor Dementor couldn't suppress the hum of approval that escaped him as he took in the sight before him. It was deceivingly large; roughly two football fields in length by one and a half wide, giving the chamber a roughly oblong shape. Above, the vaulted ceiling rose to an apex approaching fifty feet, creating an overall impressive atmosphere.

At the same time, however, it didn't convey the "normal" aura of an evil lair. Sure, it was large by huge, but conversely, it lacked any of the usual tools of world domination. There were no bubbling beakers, no supercomputer consoles, no implements of mass mind-control or such. Instead, there was one simple computer terminal and, in the center of the room, a large table covered with bits and scraps of paper. On closer inspection, Dementor could see that many of the pieces of paper were newspaper clippings featuring many of Team Possible's past exploits. _He's done his homework, _Dementor thought before speaking.

"I must say, Doctor, this is not what I expected," the jaundiced German said, his voice reverberating through the massive chamber.

"All part of my master plan, Professor," the scientist replied cryptically. Rather than keep Dementor in the dark and leave it there, however, Drakken continued. "Once Shego decided to desert me, I knew it was time to change my approach to things… beginning with a new lair. Nothing fancy, nothing flamboyant or exorbitant… just a base of operations far enough off the beaten track that it's off the radars of Global Justice and Team Possible."

"A wise decision," Dementor said, "however, I still fail to see the reason for which you asked me to join you."

"It's quite simple, really," Drakken said, inviting Dementor to take a seat at the paper-strewn table, across from the chair he had just settled into himself. "We have a common goal; to eliminate Team Possible."

"That has never given us reason to join forces before," Dementor said as he sat, still eyeing the blue-skinned scientist warily. Just because he was working with Drakken didn't mean he trusted him, after all.

"True as that may be, this time I'm going to play with the odds, rather than against them," Drakken said.

"Is that your only reasoning?"

"Not exactly," Drakken said, shifting a sheaf of papers in front of him. "There is another method to my madness; one that I'm sure you would appreciate."

"For this, I can't wait," Dementor mumbled under his breath, awaiting Drakken's apparent epiphany.

"My main reason for asking you to join forces with me, Professor, is to allow us to join our efforts; united we stand and all that."

"I'm not sure I'm understanding you, Doctor," Dementor said, a quizzical glint in his eye.

"Let's examine past circumstances, shall we?" Drakken said, leaning back in his chair as he spoke. "In the past, we've both made attempts to take over the world, correct?" Rather than respond, Dementor merely made a hand gesture, urging Drakken to continue. "And on those occasions, more than once our paths have crossed… sometimes with rather detrimental results."

"Again with the incessant ramblings, Drakken," Dementor lamented, holding his head in his hand for a moment before looking up at the blue-skinned madman. "Could we please continue before I go madder than _I already am?"_

"My apologies, Professor," Drakken said, bowing his apology to his new ally. "As I was saying, rather than getting in each other's way all the time—especially where Kim Possible is concerned—I thought it would be most prudent if we joined our forces and worked together to achieve this common goal."

Once again, Dementor sat for a long moment, pondering the words which his host had just spoken. The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed—and the wider Dementor's smile got. "You may be on to something, Doctor," he said, a malicious lilt in his voice, "but, from what I see here, you already seem to have everything planned out quite well. What are you needing me for?"

"I won't lie to you, Professor," Drakken said, leaning forward again, "but my main motivation for enlisting your services is purely financial. When Shego left, she also left me in a rather poor financial situation—normally she would be the one to rectify those problems, but for obvious reasons, that's no longer an option. So, I figured my next best bet would be to seek out somebody with a common goal and propose a partnership, hence our meeting on Señor Senior's island."

"It is rather unfortunate that we couldn't convince Senior to join us," Dementor said, his hand on his chin. "His almost endless resources would make our endeavor that much simpler."

"Yes, a pity," Drakken muttered, rather unconvinced. Sure, Senior's billions would have been a help, but at the same time the blue-skinned scientist wasn't the least bit surprised when the elderly Spaniard didn't take him up on his offer. For some odd reason—one Drakken couldn't comprehend—Senior wanted to take over the world, but felt he was above eliminating anybody that got in his way. _Sounds like Shego,_ his inner voice growled.

Shego. That name was really starting to take on a whole new meaning to the scientist. Before, he saw the mint-skinned sidekick as more than just a sidekick… she was his _friend._ Sure, her acid tongue could lash out with wanton abandon, and her complacent attitude towards his usual take-over-the-world schemes was annoying at times; but when it came right down to it, Shego was the only real friend Drew Lipsky ever had. After her departure from his ranks, however, his opinion of the plasma-charged vixen changed rather dramatically. Put simply, he wanted to see her swing from the gallows—so to speak—alongside Kim Possible and her buffoon boyfriend.

Taking a deep breath, Drakken once again addressed the vertically-challenged German that sat across from him, knowing that he had to keep his temper in check. "As you can see," he said, changing the subject, "I've acquired every piece of information anybody ever wanted to know concerning Kim Possible—right down to what size shoes she wears. What I require from you, Professor—aside from what we've previously discussed, of course—is ideas. Using the information I've gleaned here, do you think we can assemble a plan of attack that will be successful?"

At first glance, Dementor felt that he would quickly become overwhelmed with the veritable mountain of information that lay before him. If he were to properly sift through, catalog and subsequently research each tidbit that lay before him, he feared they wouldn't be able to prepare a plausible offensive until Kim and Ron were in their senior year of college. "I believe we may be able to do something," he muttered, idly scanning a printout from the top of the pile. "However, I must warn you, Doctor, we may be here for some time before we can assemble a proper strategy. There is a great deal of information that must be thoroughly examined before we can proceed."

"I understand fully, Professor," Drakken said in his smoothest voice. "Contrary to popular belief, I can be a very patient man… especially when the rewards of patience are as plentiful as they are in this case."

"Then let us begin," Dementor said simply, gathering a quantity of pages from the mound in front of him and moving to a smaller desk. "The sooner we find something of use, the sooner we can formulate and implement a plan."

* * *

Kate Gogh was slowly going insane. Oh, not in the literal sense; her mind was every bit as sound as it had ever been. No, what was driving the former villainess crazy was the total and utter sense of boredom that was quickly overcoming her. Sure, during her tenure with Drakken, she wasn't what one would call "ambitious," but at the same time, she found ways to occupy herself. Now, however, she'd been more or less confined to her quarters at the Global Justice compound since the meeting with Kim, Ron and Dr. Director the previous evening. 

It wasn't like she wasn't trying to occupy herself, though. After she'd made herself a light breakfast, she started to examine some of the resources made available to her within her quarters. One detail she'd overlooked when she first took up occupancy in the condo-like accommodations was the fully-stocked bookshelf in the living room area. Novels, reference texts, biographies… there was something to accommodate any and all literary tastes. Kate liked to read—of that there was no doubt—but, sometimes, it took more than pages of a book to occupy one's time.

Not long after noon came and went, Kate had enough. Once again, she picked up the telephone and dialed Agent Dawson's extension.

"Mark Dawson," the crisp voice answered on the second ring.

"Agent Dawson; Kate Gogh," Kate said, twisting the phone cord between her fingers.

"Good afternoon, Miss Gogh," Dawson said, his voice taking on a friendly tone. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm just wondering what there is to do in this joint," Kate replied with a hint of annoyance. "I've been out of my room twice in the last day and a half, and that was to go to meetings—three times if you count getting my hair cut—and, quite frankly, I'm starting to go stir-crazy in here."

"Well… I can't exactly promise you a roaring night on the town, but I'm sure there's something we could find for you to occupy some time," Dawson replied, hoping he could think of something.

"Just point me to the nearest gym and I'll be happy," Kate said. "Last thing I need is to start losing my touch just because I want to play for the other team."

Dawson couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. _At least she's easily amused,_ he thought as he spoke. "No problem; just turn right when you go out your front door, then left at the first intersection. After you start down that hallway, you'll see signs that'll point you in the right direction."

"Great; thanks," she said. Hanging up the phone, she wrote the directions to the gym on a pad next to the phone before she forgot them.

Half an hour later, Kate found herself shadow-boxing with a heavy bag, doing her best to imagine the face of Drew Lipsky—or, even better, his cousin Ed—as she moved. Ducking, dodging, weaving, throwing kicks and punches into the heavy leather… it was a refreshing outlet for some of her pent-up energy.

She'd started with some basic weight training and aerobics to get her blood flowing and her muscles loose before moving to the heavy bag, but already the couple of days' inactivity she'd experienced were making her feel slightly rusty. She could tell her timing was off; several times she'd have to drop into a roll and regroup before advancing another attack on the apparatus, when normally the sequence she'd be engaged in shouldn't have required any repositioning.

When it was all said and done, Kate had spent three hours in the gym—and over half of that time was spent berating herself for fouling up some of her most often-used moves. After she'd hit the shower and returned to her quarters, the first thing she did was angrily throw her towel at the couch. "How could I get so rusty so quick?" she growled to the walls. "It hasn't been that long since I was in a fight last!" Still frustrated, she moved to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator, draining half of it in a single draught, still going over the moves she'd performed earlier in her mind.

Feeling her temper ebb, she made her way back to the living room and slumped onto the couch, the water bottle still in her hand. _This sucks,_ she thought as she took another draught, _I decide to sign with the other team, and suddenly I'm on the bench._ She sat like that for some time, hot temper having been replaced by abject depression as she mulled over her current situation. She soon realized that, yeah, her current situation did tank; but at the same time, she took comfort in the fact that when the time came to take Drakken down, she would be included in the operation. _But that's no good if I can't fight my way out of a wet paper bag anymore._

Then it hit her. She needed a sparring partner; somebody that would actually hit back… somebody that could _challenge_ the former villainess—and Kate could only think of one person that would fit the bill properly. Rather than disturb Agent Dawson again, Kate moved to the computer that had been left to her disposal and opened a web browser window. Accessing the website she was in search of, she typed a brief message in the _Contact Us_ section and submitted it, hoping the response would be favorable.

* * *

"Man, this is lame," Monique lamented, "and I _like_ chick-flicks!" 

"No kidding," Kim replied, her gaze never wavering from the flickering television screen on the other side of the room. As planned, Kim had arrived at her friend's home at precisely seven PM; and Monique had already prepared a selection of choice chick-flicks for the two teens to watch. Amongst the selection was a new release that had just made it to DVD—one that, up till now, Kim had been anxious to watch. After the first half-hour, however, they quickly discovered what a waste of celluloid the production had been.

"No wonder it tanked at the box office," Monique muttered as the male protagonist delivered yet another horrid line. "Even Bonnie wouldn't fall for that schlock."

Kim was about to reply when the distinctive, four-toned alarm from her wrist-mounted Kimmunicator chirped. Rolling her eyes, she excused herself and moved to the quiet of the kitchen so she could take the call.

"Hey Wade, what up?" she said as the screen came to life.

"Hey, Kim," he replied with his usual grin. "Just got a hit on the site, but it's nothing serious… in fact; I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't for the requester asking for a reply."

"Okay; ask the question and I'll reply," Kim said with a bemused smirk.

"Well… it's from Kate," Wade said. "She wants to know if you're available sometime to make good on your offer as a sparring partner."

"Send the reply that I'll meet her in the GJ gym tomorrow morning at ten," Kim replied, her smirk morphing into a full-blown smile, "and tell her I'm looking forward to kicking her biscuit… _again."_

"Uhhh… you do remember that this is Kate, not Shego; right, Kim?" Wade asked tentatively.

"Oh, I know," Kim replied, a cunning gleam in her eye, "but I want to make sure she's all-in on this one. If I'm gonna spar with her, I want it to be every bit as intense as it was when she worked for Drakken."

Wade nodded in understanding. "I'll let her know as soon as I'm done here," he said.

"Please and thank you," Kim replied with a smile as her tech guru cut the connection. Still wearing the Cheshire-cat grin, she returned to the living room, where Monique had finally grown weary of watching the horrible film they'd started on. Expecting to be left alone prematurely, the African-American girl had flipped the television to the sports channel, watching a repeat GWA program from earlier in the year.

"So where you off to this time?" she asked with genuine interest as Kim re-entered the living room.

"Nowhere," Kim replied, resuming her place on the couch beside her friend. "Wade was just passing a message along; turns out I have a sparring date with Kate Gogh tomorrow morning."

"Oh, okay," Monique said, taking a sip of her drink. "So I've still got you for the evening."

"Not if you don't put something other than GWA on," Kim said with a scowl, casting a quick gaze at the screen.

"Actually," Monique said, shutting the television off and turning to face Kim full-on, "I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

Kim was wary. She had an idea where her friend was going with this whole discussion, but decided to let her proceed anyway. "Okay… what's the sitch?"

"Remember what we were talking about earlier today?" Monique began, testing the waters and hoping her friend didn't go nuclear on her.

"Yeah," Kim said warily. _I don't like where this is going,_ she thought, but said no more; preferring to let Monique speak her mind first. While she was still rather tweaked about the whole suggestion Dr. Director had made the previous evening, she had calmed down enough to realize that listening to a person's point of view—especially a friend's—couldn't hurt.

She never got to find out just what exactly Monique was trying to say, though; Wade chose that particular moment to call a second time.

"Hey Kim," he said, "sorry to bother you again, but this time it's serious… and I'm not talking a rebuttal from Kate."

"What's the sitch?" Kim asked, going into mission-mode.

"New hit on the site; this one's from Lowerton PD; looks like there's a hostage situation at an office building down there…"

"…and they want us to go in and help with the extraction, right?" Kim guessed.

"Got it in one," Wade replied with a smirk. "I've already called Ron; he's gonna meet you there."

"Too bad Drakken fried the battle suit," Kim mused, "something tells me it would have come in handy on this one."

"Yeah, but we've made do without it before; just have to do it again," Wade said with a shrug.

"I guess… okay, I'm on my way," Kim said grudgingly, cutting the connection to the tech guru. With a sad smile, she looked at her friend again. "Sorry Mon; looks like I gotta split," she said apologetically.

"Hey, it's what you do," the dark-skinned girl said good-naturedly. "We'll pick it up another time… and hopefully with a better movie."

"I sure hope so," Kim replied as they made their way to the door. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Look after yourself out there, Kim."

"I always do," the redhead said nonchalantly as she made her way to her car.

* * *

_A/N: I know it's been a long time coming, but this last chapter has gone through a couple of re-writes before I finally came up with this version. I hope you all enjoy it. Again, thank you to all that have reviewed up to this point; your continued support is the motivation I need to keep this thing going. As you probably noticed, Kim's starting to go through a bit of a moral dilemma; one of my re-writes had she and Monique have a real heart-to-heart during their "girl's night," but I let that one slide in favor of the version you just read. It will get explored in another way in the next chapter._

_Again, thank you to all the readers and reviewers that are following this story. I do hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it._

_Until next time,  
Deuce._


	5. Chapter Four

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:** The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series Kim Possible are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental.  
_

* * *

_A/N: Due to some of the content of this chapter and upcoming subject matter/content, I've decided to quit trying to avoid the inevitable and bumped the rating on this little work to "M."

* * *

__**CHAPTER FOUR**_

Kim and Ron arrived at the scene at roughly the same time; Kim's highly-conspicuous, bubblegum-pink Roth SL Coupe rolling up to the police barricade just seconds ahead of her boyfriend's more subtle Mustang. As Ron was stepping out of his car, one of the patrolmen performing crowd control made his way over to where they were parked. Kim noticed him as well, stepping out of her car to greet him as he approached.

"Miss Possible," the man said, "thank God you're here; we're in a real jam."

"That's what we're here for," she replied, glancing at Ron as she spoke. "So what's the sitch, exactly?"

"Three suspects in a boardroom holding four hostages," the cop replied. Beckoning for them to follow, he continued speaking. "Captain McShane and Detective Craddock have been waiting for you; they'll fill you in with what they know." Nodding, Kim and Ron followed the officer to the waiting police captain.

As they walked, Kim turned to look at her boyfriend/partner. Having been as close for as long as the two had been, it was no trouble for either of them to tell when something was bugging the other one; and it was blatantly obvious to Kim that something was eating at Ron. Smiling softly, she reached over and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she said, moving a little closer to him, "you okay?"

Ron's gaze had moved to Kim the moment her hand touched his shoulder. He didn't want to express his concerns too soon, believing them to be nothing more than a case of typical Stoppable paranoia. He realized, however, that he should've known better than to try and hide anything from his best-friend girlfriend. Mustering up his best lopsided grin, he reached up to take Kim's hand in his own. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said, "just can't shake this nagging feeling that something's not right."

Kim believed she knew exactly why Ron felt a bit off. "You're just missing Rufus, that's all," she said, giving his hand a squeeze as she spoke.

Not long before graduation, Ron's pet mole rat, Rufus, had taken sick. A visit to the vet later, and it was discovered that Ron's best friend (next to Kim, of course) was suffering from exhaustion. When asked about Rufus' living conditions, Ron described in detail how he took care of his little buddy… including how the diminutive member of Team Possible had been instrumental in several of their victories. While Rufus seemed to swell and beam with pride at that statement, the veterinarian's response was somewhat different. He quickly launched into a lecture on how naked mole rats were merely subterranean rodents that had no business even being pets, much less pets that spent the majority of their time in the leg pocket of their owner's cargo pants. Ron had tried to protest, but the vet would hear none of it. By the time all was said and done, though, they had come to a compromise—Rufus could still accompany Ron just about anywhere except missions, pending a follow-up exam in a month's time.

Ron wasn't convinced, however. Since Rufus had been put on the "disabled list," as he called it, they'd gone on several missions; none of which gave him the uneasy feeling he was currently experiencing. "I don't think it's that, KP," he replied.

"Then what is it?"

"I really don't know," he said, looking down again.

"Ron," she said softly, making sure only he would hear, "is it just a bad feeling in your gut… or is it a Mystical Monkey thingamajig that's bothering you?"

"Maybe, but I doubt it," he replied in a similar tone. "Usually, if it's something to do with my monkey mojo, I get a vision or a dream or something that gives me a half-baked idea of a problem. This time… it's like I ate a three-hour-old Naco."

"Did you?"

"Not tonight," Ron replied indignantly. "I learned my lesson on that last month. Besides… they're better fresh."

Kim smiled, giving her boyfriend's hand another tender squeeze. "Don't worry," she said, laying her head against his shoulder briefly, "everything's gonna be just fine. We'll go in, get it done, and get out and be home by ten."

_I sure hope so,_ Ron thought to himself.

* * *

Captain Laura McShane was obviously agitated. She'd seen a lot in her twenty years on the Lowerton police force, but a hostage situation was something new… not to mention something she hoped she would never see. Truth be told, it was one of the reasons she'd moved from Denver to Lowerton when she first decided to be a cop: she figured in a Podunk burg such as this, the worst she'd have to deal with would be a bunch of punk kids antagonizing the Cat Lady's fifteen tabbies. 

However, life has that annoying little habit of throwing one a screwball on a fastball count. McShane didn't notice it until it was too late, but Lowerton—indeed, the entire Tri-City area—had grown since she first joined the police force, all three becoming booming metropolises in their own right. Lowerton, for its part, was home to the corporate offices of several Midwestern trucking firms—one of which had come upon some rough times; culminating in—according to the intel they'd received—the situation that the Lowerton PD was now trying to diffuse with the lowest casualty count possible.

Adding to her irritation was her head detective, Lieutenant Jack Craddock. A grizzled, old-school veteran of the force, Craddock had wanted to employ a classic shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later approach to extracting the hostages. McShane, of course, felt that a more tactical approach would net better results than tear-gas canisters and a bunch of shouting macho-men with bayonet-tipped M-16's… and in her opinion; there existed only one team that could effect the tactical infiltration and extraction she wanted. Of course, Craddock's reaction to his captain's decision wasn't exactly favorable.

"You're kidding, right, Captain?" he scoffed when she informed the detective of her decision. "You wouldn't really bring in a couple of kids to do real police work… would you?"

"Kim Possible and her partner have proven themselves worthy of this kind of assignment time and again, Jack," McShane said, a finality in her tone that brooked no argument. Craddock made no move to dispute his boss, but the scowl on his face made it evident that he wasn't pleased with her decision. "No matter what way you slice it, they're the perfect fit for this situation."

"If you say so," Craddock replied, not bothering to mask the doubt in his voice. McShane chose to ignore him, instead turning to see if the dynamic teen duo had arrived yet.

Sure enough, McShane's gaze was met with the sight of Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable making their way through the tangle of police cars and barricades, led by a beat cop to where McShane and Craddock were waiting. Allowing herself a brief smile, she gave Craddock a brief nudge, motioning to the advancing trio. "Here they come now," she said, locking a steely gaze on him as she spoke. "Let me do the talking."

"Yes, sir," Craddock grumbled, snapping a rather sarcastic salute as McShane turned to greet Team Possible.

"Kim Possible, I presume," McShane said, extending her hand to Kim as they arrived in front of her. "I'm Captain Laura McShane."

"Captain," Kim replied simply, shaking the proffered hand. "This is my partner, Ron Stoppable," she continued, motioning to Ron as she spoke.

"Thank you both for coming on such short notice," McShane replied, shaking Ron's hand as well. "We're in a pretty sticky spot, and you're the only one I could think of that could resolve it as clean as possible."

"That's what we're here for, Captain," Kim said, glancing towards the building. "Have the hostage-takers made any demands yet?"

"Not yet," McShane replied with a sigh, "and that worries me; no demands means these guys are rank amateurs in the terrorism department."

"Amateurs?" Ron asked. "Wouldn't that make them easier to take down?"

"Not in this case," McShane said. "They're only amateurs in terrorism; as far as weapons and technology go, they're definite pros."

"So they don't know what they want or what it'll take to get the hostages out alive, but they know how to make things go south in a hurry," Kim surmised.

"That just about covers it," McShane said with a nod. "They've already informed us that they've taken control of the security cameras, and are monitoring them from the boardroom; if anybody tries to enter the building, one of the hostages dies."

"Sounds like this one's gonna be tricky," Kim said, rubbing her chin. As much as she hated the prospect, it was starting to look like they would have to infiltrate via the sewers first, then through the HVAC system to reach their objective. Sighing, she contacted Wade to plot a course through the maze of sewer pipes and ductwork. What she wasn't expecting, however, was the response she got from her tech phenom.

"No."

"Whaddaya mean, 'no?' Wade, you got some _'splainin' _to do!" Kim exclaimed, sounding eerily like a female Ricky Ricardo chewing Lucy out.

Wade was nonplussed, however. "I mean," he began, speaking slowly, "there's no way I'm gonna send my two best friends through a stinking sewer when I can send them right in the front door."

"Wade, you heard the demands; if anybody goes in the front door, the hostages are dead!"

"Not if they don't see you coming," Wade replied.

"They've got control of the security cameras, Wade!" Ron interjected. "How would they _not_ see us coming?"

"They won't see you coming because they're watching the cameras, and not a window," Wade said, a knowing smirk on his face. "Because they're a small group, they know they can't keep tabs on the whole building at once… at least, not without help like security cameras."

"Okay, I'm lost," Ron said.

"I've already hacked the building's security system," Wade said, "and I've been recording from the cameras in the lobby, the stairwells and the hallways on the fourth floor that run from the stairs to the boardroom."

"And that helps us… how?" Kim asked.

"In about two minutes, I'm going to override their live feed from the cameras," Wade replied, "leaving them to watch a continuous loop of the recording I've made. Where there's no live timestamp at the bottom of these cameras' recordings—and no activity in the hallways or stairwells—they'll never know the difference."

Kim was about to speak when Ron stuck his hand up, drawing her attention. "Kim, I know you're usually the one to say this to our resident tech; but just this once, I'd like the honor." As Kim nodded, Ron moved so he could see Wade's face on the Kimmunicator. "Wade… you hurricane _rock,_ dude!"

"I do what I can," he said with a smile, his gaze wandering across a couple of his monitors. "Once I start the loop, just go through the front door; stairwell access will be to the left of the elevators. I'll track you via the Kimmunicator, and direct you once you get to the fourth floor."

"Perfect," Kim said. "How much longer till the loop's started?"

"Right… about… _now!"_ Wade replied, embellishing his actions as he spoke; in the way only a true _Space Passage_ aficionado could.

"Spankin'," she said, "we'll contact you when we hit the fourth floor." With that, she cut the connection and turned to Ron.

"Go time?" he asked simply.

"Bingo," she replied, starting toward the building. Ron followed behind, casting a glance up at the fourth floor windows. _Somewhere up there,_ he thought, _is about eight hundred miles of bad road._

* * *

As far as boardrooms went, it was rather nondescript. A mahogany table was the centerpiece of the room, surrounded by a dozen high-backed, leather chairs. On one of the end walls hung a large plasma screen for either videoconferencing or visual aid during a presentation. Several potted plants surrounded the walls of the room, and a half-dozen watercolor prints hung from the oak-paneled walls. Soft incandescent bulbs provided the lighting, giving the room a warmer atmosphere than standard fluorescent lighting possibly could… but it did little to comfort the four hostages currently being held in the normally-cheerful room. Of course, the cheer usually leaves a room when its occupants are staring at the business end of two Heckler and Koch MK23 pistols. For the moment, however, there were only the two pistols pointing at the hostages; the third member of the trio—obviously the technical pro of the group—was sitting at the end of the table furthest from the prisoners, keeping an eye on the security cameras via the laptop he'd brought with him, his Uzi submachine gun hanging from a sling over his shoulder. 

"How long are you going to hold us here?" one of the hostages—a middle-aged man—asked, his tone more curious than anything.

"As long as it takes for us to get what we want," one of the other captors replied.

"If you told us what you want, maybe we could help you acquire it," a woman in her late thirties said, trying to be helpful.

"Believe me," the same captor—obviously the leader of the group—growled, "you have no bearing on us getting what we want. You're simply a means to an end."

"If we have no bearing on the outcome, then what point does holding us hostage serve?" the woman asked, unable to mask her confusion.

"We're making a political statement," the man said. His voice and demeanor were calm, but never once did the barrel of his MK23 waver, always trained somewhere around the middle of the group. If anybody made any wrong moves, he would not hesitate for a moment to cut them down. "This has nothing to do with who you work for or what you do for a living… I regret to inform you that you four are just unfortunate enough to be the leverage we require."

Silent up to this point, the other male captive—a hefty African-American man in his late fifties—finally let his curiosity get the better of him. "If you don't mind me asking, sir… just what _is_ the political statement that you're making?"

Just as the impromptu spokesman was about to answer the question, all seven occupants of the room were taken off-guard by the double oak doors leading into the boardroom being blown off their hinges by a small explosive charge, immediately followed by a black-and-purple blur flying into the room and rolling under the table. One of the two men fired three quick shots at the form, tattooing a neat row of holes in the floor just behind it; the other man firing a similar burst at the door, hoping to at least drive the intruder's backup to cover.

The third captor, meanwhile, had jumped from his seat and was turning to make good on their original threat when a hand wrapped around his left ankle and pulled… _hard._ He went down, involuntarily squeezing the trigger on his weapon as he did so and sending a burst of 9mm rounds into the ceiling almost directly above him.

Kim smirked from her position under the table; her strategy of tripping the man having a secondary bonus as his head bounced unceremoniously off the edge of a heavy wooden podium, knocking him cold. She hoped she could repeat a similar procedure on the other two suspects when she heard the bark of one of their pistols, accompanied by a scream.

At first, Kim was horrified. She'd been in some sticky situations before, and yes, she'd witnessed death; but only of the accidental variety. She'd helped with the cleanup of numerous natural disasters over her years as a teen hero, and in such situations, death was certainly unavoidable, and she had come to terms with that.

What she couldn't handle, however, was a person being murdered in cold blood. Her disgust quickly turning to rage, she rolled onto her back and braced her feet under the edge of the table, kicking up with every ounce of strength she could find. It had the desired effect; the heavy table tipped up on two legs before it overbalanced and rolled onto its side. Moving before it landed, the redheaded teen jumped into a fighting stance between the captors and the captives.

Surprised at first by the table flipping over seemingly by its own accord, the two remaining captors quickly jumped back to avoid having their toes crushed under the edge of the table. They'd hardly regrouped when Kim came flying over the table at them, her arms outstretched in a flying clothesline maneuver. She caught the one on her left square in the throat, knocking him down; but the one on her right ducked her arm and let it sail harmlessly over him, twisting himself in what almost resembled a pirouette, bringing his weapon to bear on her as he did so.

He never did manage to get a shot, though. Ron took Kim's Superman maneuver as his cue to enter; and he delivered in fine style. While the man was pirouetting, Kim's best friend/boyfriend/partner bolted into the room and took him down with a flying tackle, making him resemble more a defensive lineman and less a running back. Now a one-on-one fight, it didn't last long, Kim and Ron almost simultaneously removing their adversaries from the game with a single, well-aimed punch before either of them could react, both knocked cold. Ron quickly removed the pistol from his opponent's hand, making sure it was no longer a factor should the man recover. Kim did likewise with her own adversary, holding the weapon gingerly in her hand while Ron ushered the hostages out of the room and sent them to safety.

Kim forgot about the third man, however. When she had dragged him off his feet, she assumed he'd been knocked unconscious when his head struck the podium. Instead, he'd merely been stunned, and was coming around. He'd lain still the entire time, waiting for his moment to strike, and knew it had come when the commotion died down. In a fluid motion, he jumped to his feet, bringing his gun to bear on her as he rose.

"You meddling _bitch!"_ he screamed, squeezing the trigger at the same time. The Israeli weapon chattered, its staccato burst almost deafening in the closed space.

Kim dived headlong in an attempt to avoid the burst of lethal hail. Jumping into a tuck-and-roll maneuver, she brought herself back on her feet about two yards from where she'd been standing. Adrenaline pumping through her veins and realizing she was quickly running out of options, Kim used the inertia of her roll to bring the MK23 into position, hoping against hope she wouldn't regret her decision.

Gritting her teeth and bracing her right hand with her left, Kim squeezed the trigger. With a brilliant muzzle flash and an impressive report, the MK23 bucked in her hands, launching the .45-caliber round at the criminal before her. Her adversary had just about drawn a bead on her when the pistol in her hand barked, but he never got a chance to squeeze the trigger before the searing pain of hot lead piercing his right shoulder registered in his brain. Howling, he let go of the Uzi, letting it dangle from the harness over his shoulder, his right arm now practically useless; his left hand clutching the wound.

"Put the gun down," she said, keeping her weapon trained on the man in front of her. He complied, letting the harness slip over his ruined shoulder, the Uzi clattering harmlessly to the floor.

"Not bad for someone that's never handled a firearm before," the man sneered. Kim blinked, but didn't respond as he continued. "Oh yes, we know all about you, Miss Possible. In fact, we were expecting you… just not so soon."

Kim was nonplussed. "Just who are you, anyway? What was your purpose in taking four innocent people hostage… and murdering one of them?"

"I'm disappointed, Miss Possible," the man said, "I was under the impression that you were more observant of your surroundings than that."

"What are you talking about?"

"The hostages," the man chuckled, drawing in a sharp breath from the pain in his shoulder, "have all escaped with their lives."

For the first time since she'd dived at the other two criminals, Kim stole a glance at the row of chairs where the hostages had been seated. Sure enough, all four seats were empty and no blood was evident. Instead, she saw a single bullet hole in the wall where one of the hostages' heads had been. Apparently they'd ducked for cover when the gunfire had erupted, the shot Kim originally assumed to be lethal had instead embedded itself harmlessly in the hardwood panel of the wall.

"Thank God," she breathed, refocusing her attention on the man that stood before her. He hadn't moved, his left hand still clasped over the wound in his right shoulder, blood oozing more and more evidently between his fingers. "You never did answer my original question, though," she said, "who are you?"

"I… am nobody," the man replied, his voice emotionless. "We, however… are your worst nightmare." With that, Kim watched the man's jaw work for a moment before obviously clamping down on something. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized what he was doing.

"No!" she screamed, running toward him. She knew it was too late, the poison affecting the man almost instantly. As she approached, the smell of bitter almonds assaulted her nostrils and stopped her cold.

Ron, meanwhile, had ushered the hostages to the elevator and gave them the explicit instruction to "get the hell out" when he heard the gunshots. He ran back to the boardroom and arrived just in time to hear Kim's horrified scream, bursting in without regard to his own safety. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Kim was still standing and unharmed, but stopped short when she suddenly turned around, bent over with her hands braced on her knees, and promptly experienced an instant replay of her dinner in rewind.

"Kim! What's wrong?" he exclaimed, running over to her and placing a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Kim said nothing at first, still hunched over and gagging slightly. Ron gently led her to one of the chairs vacated by the hostages and eased her into it. She sat for several minutes with her head between her knees, breathing deeply to calm her churning guts. Ron sat beside her, gently rubbing her back to comfort her. He'd never seen her so distressed on a mission before and knew it could only mean one thing—something horrible happened.

Once she could finally trust herself not to vomit again, Kim sat up and looked at her partner. "Ron?" she whispered, sounding more like a little girl than the confident young woman she was.

"Yeah, KP?" he replied, his own voice equally soft as he took her gloved hand in his, squeezing it gently.

"He's dead," she said simply. "I tried to get information out of him—who he was, what he wanted—and all he said was 'I am nobody, but we are your worst nightmare' before he popped a suicide pill."

"I heard gunshots," Ron said, "and came back as quick as I could. Kim… did you shoot him?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "he wasn't out like I thought he was, and he fired at me. I jumped out of the way, and shot him in the shoulder before he could kill me."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Ron said, drawing the redheaded heroine into his embrace, the latter surrendering willingly. Suddenly he sat up and released her. "What about the other two?" he exclaimed.

"Oh, man, I forgot about them!" she replied, jumping to her feet a millisecond behind him. They quickly crossed the room to where the other two suspects were taken down. Kim started to kneel next to the one nearest her when she suddenly stopped, the telltale scent of bitter almonds once again assailing her nostrils. Sighing, she stood back up and looked at Ron. "They're gone, too," she muttered, leaning against the overturned table.

Ron ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he did so. "Man, this is _not_ the result I was expecting," he said.

"Me either," she said. Even though they'd successfully extracted the hostages and neutralized the situation, the assignment still felt like a failure to her. Dejectedly, she activated her Kimmunicator to contact Wade.

"Hey Kim," he said, the smile evaporating from his face the second he saw Kim's. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

"Tell Captain McShane mission accomplished," she said flatly. "Hostages are safe; threat has been neutralized… three bodies for pickup."

"Bodies?" Wade repeated. "Are they all—?"

"Yeah," Kim cut in. "They're all."

Wade nodded, punching some keys on his keyboard. "I'll let Captain McShane know… you guys wanna bail out the back door?"

"Please and thank you," Kim said, her voice still flat and emotionless. She cut the transmission and turned to Ron. "C'mon, baby," she said, taking his hand, "let's go home."

* * *

_A/N: What a time! This chapter presented me with several challenges... none of which had a simple answer. Like the previous chapter, this one went through several rewrites, however these ones were more complete (two totally false starts and countless edits of the events in the boardroom). I've finally come out with something that I'm satisfied with posting... along with my sincere apologies for taking so long to update. Special thanks to all of those who've added this story to their favorites alerts; my gratitude runs deep. I certainly hope this chapter is as well-received as the previous ones have been._

_In the next chapter, we'll see just how Kim will cope with the horrible things she's seen and get a little added insight into the seemingly pointless hostage-takers she and Ron faced off with in this chapter._

_Until next time,  
Deuce._


	6. Chapter Five

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__ The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental._

* * *

**_CHAPTER FIVE_**

Kim and Ron's exit from the building and subsequent journey to their cars was, all in all, uneventful. Wade plotted them a course that took them on a secondary fire-escape route to the alley behind the building; from there, they were able to retrieve their cars and return to Middleton.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Kim's pink hatchback rolled into the Possible's driveway with Ron's convertible directly behind. When they parted ways at their cars, Ron noticed Kim seemed to have crawled into a shell; as they exited their cars it appeared nothing had changed. Kim showed no emotion as she climbed out of her Roth and locked it. He climbed out of his Mustang and hastily locked it as well before following his girlfriend to the front door, arriving just in time to prevent her from closing it on him as she entered the house. Silently, she untied her boots and slipped them off her feet before heading for her loft bedroom, leaving Ron in the entryway. With a sigh, the young man removed his own boots and followed her; giving her enough of a headstart to get to her bedroom and lock him out if she so desired.

It was in her bedroom when Kim's shell finally broke open. Ron noticed she'd left her trap door open, so he climbed the stairs slowly, ready to retreat if need be. His head had just crested the opening in the floor in time to see his girlfriend collapse on the bed in a fetal position, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Kim?" he said softly, standing on the top step. He'd never seen Kim—normally the poster child for calm under pressure—so distraught, and was unsure how to deal with it.

Kim, for her part, knew exactly what she needed. "H-h-hold me, Ron," she sobbed, "… please."

Ron complied at once, slipping his gloves off his hands as he approached and rounded Kim's bed to lay behind her. He spooned his body against hers, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her to him. Kim responded by pressing her own body as tightly to his as she could, her hand clasped over his. It broke Ron's heart to see her in such an emotional state, but he knew he had to be strong for her.

They remained that way for quite some time—how long, Ron couldn't be sure. He did notice, however, that Kim's sobs had been replaced with the slow, steady breathing of slumber. Ron was thankful for that; it would afford Kim some relief from her anguish… temporary, but relief nonetheless. With gentle movements, he extracted his hand from her now-relaxed grip and used it to pull her hair back from her face, leaning on his other elbow as he did. He couldn't help but stare at her as she slept; even with a tear-stained face, Ron thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

From the corner of his eye, Ron saw a flicker of light coming from the front yard, accompanied by the sound of a car pulling into the drive. Assuming it was Kim's parents coming home, he decided it would be best if he intercepted them downstairs before one of them inadvertently woke Kim. Using his entire combined ninja/teen hero training, the towheaded young man slipped away from his girlfriend, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before heading downstairs.

James and Anne Possible, for their part, had just arrived home from their monthly "date night." When they first pulled in the yard, they were mildly surprised to see Ron's car sitting in the drive behind Kim's, but didn't make much of it—it wasn't uncommon for Kim and Ron to close out their evening cuddling on the couch and watching a movie on _TV Trash Heap… _the thought of which never failed to bring a smile to Anne Possible's face.

Silently, the two elder Possibles entered the house and made their way to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb the teenagers. Neither was quite ready to go to bed just yet, so Anne put some water in the kettle and placed it on the stove for a cup of tea before they retired. While they waited for the water to boil, James moved to take a peek in the living room.

He never did quite make it, though. He was just passing through the doorway from the kitchen to the living room when Ron came down the stairs. While his first notion was to call his colleagues at the Space Center to set up a launch time, James decided to instead allow the young man a chance to plead his case… after all; it was indeed very possible that Ron had a legitimate reason for being upstairs.

"Hello, Ronald," James said as Ron stepped off the stairs. Right away, he noticed Ron was wearing his mission gear. "Just get back from a mission?"

"Yeah, something like that, Mr. Dr. P.," Ron replied, shuffling towards the kitchen as he spoke.

The Possible patriarch quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing; instead he followed his daughter's lifelong friend back to the kitchen and watched him slump into the breakfast nook. With a shrug, James slid himself in across from Ron, unsure of what to say next.

Anne, for her part, saw Ron the second he came into the kitchen. Almost immediately, her heart went out to the young man; she could tell by his body language that something was weighing heavy on his mind… and she hoped against hope it didn't involve her daughter. Grabbing a third mug from the cupboard, she quickly prepared tea for the three of them and brought it to the kitchen table, sitting down beside her husband. Ron managed a wan smile of gratitude as the steaming mug was placed in front of him.

"Ron… is everything okay?" she asked, her blue eyes shimmering with concern. She could tell something was upsetting him and hoped she could help, when a sudden horrible thought crossed her mind. "Is Kimmie alright?"

"Yeah, she's fine," Ron said. "She's asleep upstairs."

"So what's wrong?"

With a sigh, Ron launched into telling the tale of the evening's events. "Wade called me and told me there was a situation going down in Lowerton; he was going to call Kim after and get her to meet me there," he said, his hands wrapped around the mug in front of him. "Once we got there, we met up with the Lowerton police captain and she told us what was going on; hostage situation, fourth floor boardroom, three suspects and four hostages. Wade hacked the security cameras so we could go in undetected, and we walked right in the front door and up to the fourth floor without any trouble.

"Kim went in first; took 'em by surprise. Two of 'em took a couple of shots at her, but they missed. She went under the table and took one of them down and knocked him out, and then she flipped the table on its side and Supermanned at the other two. She missed one of 'em, so I ran in and took him down; we took their guns from them just in case they came to and I got the hostages out of there.

"I had just gotten them to the elevator when I heard shots, so I hightailed it back for the boardroom. The third guy had come around and tried to take Kim down, so she used the gun she stripped from the other guy and shot him in the shoulder."

"Oh, my God," Anne gasped. James took her hand, his own face still devoid of expression.

"Go on, Ronald," he urged, "what happened then?"

"I heard her scream 'no!' just before I got back," Ron continued, taking a deep breath. "When I got there, she was bent over losing her lunch, then she told me he popped a suicide pill. We checked the other two; apparently they'd come to somewhere along the line and did the same thing. She called Wade and told him to send a cleanup crew and we came here."

"Did she say anything?" Anne asked.

"She clammed up the second she finished talking to Wade," Ron replied, "but when we got here, she just went upstairs, lay down on her bed and started crying."

Ron's own voice had cracked at the memory, prompting Anne to reach across the table and take his hand in her own. He managed to smile wanly at her and continued. "She asked me to hold her, so I laid down with her and held her until she fell asleep; then I came down when I heard you come home."

"Thank you, Ronald," James said after a moment of silence, a note of sincerity in his voice never before heard by the younger man, "for looking after my Kimmie-cub."

"Dr. P, I was nowhere near Kim when she was shot at!" Ron protested. "How could I possibly have protected her?"

"Ronald," James began, his eyes locking with those of the towheaded teen across from him, "you've been looking after Kim for the last fourteen years. From that first day in pre-K, when she came home and told us about her new friend she met, to that first mission in Upperton… right up to now. Time and again you've proven your devotion to my daughter—whether she deserved it or not. Quite frankly, you're more than a father could ever hope to see in his daughter's boyfriend."

Noting the confused look on Ron's face, Anne decided to try a different tack. "Ron, why do you love Kimmie?"

"She's my best friend," Ron replied instantly.

"Exactly," Anne said, smiling despite the tears that still rolled down her cheeks. "You and Kim were friends for years, and it developed into what you have now."

"What's that got to do with looking after her?" Ron asked, now thoroughly confused.

"Ron, you and Kim have been through more scrapes in the past four years than most people will ever experience in a lifetime," Anne said. "Do you think a Josh Mankey or a Walter Nelson would ever stick by her side for even half as long as you have?"

"Anne's right, Ronald," James said, picking up on what his wife was saying. "You've been the one constant in Kim's life; the one rock she could lean on when she needed it most. You made sure she got to the orthodontist when she locked braces with the Nelson boy; you went all the way to the Amazon to save Kim's life—and her date with the Mankey boy!"

"And through it all," Anne continued, "you never think twice about putting Kim ahead of your own feelings. If that's not looking after her, I don't know what is."

"That's just the way it's always been," Ron shrugged, "I've got KP's back; she's got mine."

"And we're forever grateful for it, Ronald," James said, smiling fondly at the young man before him.

"Why don't you go on back up to bed; I'm quite sure there's a pair of your gym shorts on the top shelf of Kimmie's closet," Anne added, smiling just as fondly at him. "I'll call your mother in the morning and let her know you're here."

"Okay, Mrs. Dr. P," Ron said with a nod. It seemed to hit all of a sudden, but Ron felt totally drained; as if the evening's events had robbed him of his entire energy reserves. It was all he could do to not doze off as he climbed the stairs back to Kim's room, at the same time thanking his lucky stars he knew the layout of the house almost by heart. He navigated the upstairs hallway to Kim's wrought-iron stairwell without incident, shuffling into the redhead's bedroom as quietly as he could.

As he topped the stairs, he could see Kim at least appeared to still be sleeping, so he tiptoed to the closet to retrieve the shorts her mother informed him about. Luckily, the full moon outside was casting enough light through the window so Ron could see without turning on any lights. He found the shorts without trouble and made his way to the privacy screen that stood in the corner of the room, careful not to tread too heavily past the bed. Quickly and quietly as he could, Ron doffed his mission gear and slipped the shorts on, re-emerging from behind the screen to see his girlfriend propped up on her elbow, looking at him through half-hooded eyes.

"Ronnie," she muttered, "aren't you worried about black holes?" Instead of answering right away, Ron made his way around the bed to what was quickly becoming "his" side and slid under the covers, wrapping his arm gently around her waist as he did so.

"I was just talking to your parents; they told me to come up and get some sleep," he replied, kissing her cheek softly. "Now go get your PJ's on and go back to sleep; I'll be right here when you wake up."

Kim turned to look at her boyfriend, a soft smile on her face. "Promise you'll be here?"

"Swear it on the Torah."

"Good," she whispered, resting her forehead against his for a moment before slipping off the bed. Ron rolled to his other side, putting the privacy screen to his back and watched as Kim went to her dresser and pulled an unidentified piece of clothing from the bottom drawer. She then disappeared from his line of view, presumably behind the screen to change. Ron rolled onto his back with his arms folded behind his head and lay staring at the ceiling.

_I could sure get used to sleeping in this bed,_ he thought, settling himself into the mattress with a content sigh. With the bed being as comfortable as it was added to the physical and psychological strain of the day, it was a struggle for the young man to stay awake long enough for his girlfriend to join him. Before long, though, he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see Kim fully emerge from behind the screen, wearing one of his old red jerseys—the same one she'd confiscated from him less than a month after they had started dating.

"So that's what you wanted it for," he muttered with a smile as Kim slid in beside him.

"Uh-huh," she replied, snuggling up to him, her arm across his stomach. "It was the best way I could think of to have a part of you with me every night."

"Badical," he whispered, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him, her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. Ron was just about asleep when he felt Kim's head move, followed by her lips gently pressing against his jaw.

"I love you, Ron," she whispered in his ear before letting her head settle once again to his shoulder. Ron let his right hand trace up her arm to her head, running his fingers through her auburn mane as he turned to kiss her forehead.

"I love you too, KP," he whispered back, his lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke. They were quiet for a few minutes, just basking in each other's presence.

Finally, Kim spoke. "Ron… am I a bad person?"

"Huh?" Ron stuttered, blinking. He had just about fallen asleep when Kim spoke, rousing him once again. "Wha'd ya say, KP?"

"Am I a bad person?" she asked again, lifting herself on her right arm so she could look him squarely in the face.

"What're you talking about, Kim?" Ron replied, a befuddled look on his face. "You save the world and help people on an almost daily basis… what would ever make you think you're a bad person?"

"Ron, I shot a man tonight!" Kim exclaimed, sitting up on the bed. She drew her knees up and rested her chin on them, her arms around her shins. "I just practically went against everything I stand for when I pulled that trigger!"

Ron groaned as he rolled over and turned on the bedside lamp, then sat up beside his girlfriend and put his arm around her shoulders. "Kim, listen to me," he said, in a stern, yet soft voice. "You are one of the single most wonderful, selfless people on the entire planet. What you did tonight does not make you a bad person." Kim made a move to interrupt, but Ron held his hand up and locked eyes with her. "No buts, KP; all you did was defend yourself."

"But that's what I know sixteen styles of kung-fu for, Ron; so I wouldn't _need_ a gun to defend myself!" Kim exclaimed, fresh tears running down her face.

Ron pulled her closer and tighter into his embrace, kissing the top of her head as he did so. "Kim… remember what Kate said the other day at GJ?"

"Which part?"

"The part about not being able to dodge bullets," he replied. "I think the point she was trying to make was exactly the situation you were in tonight."

"I'm not sure I follow," Kim said, wiping her eyes.

"What would you have done if you didn't have that pistol in your hand?" Ron asked.

"Probably rush him," Kim replied.

"And most likely you would have gotten shot; maybe even killed," Ron said. "Kim, shooting that guy _saved your life._ He would have survived the wound he had if he hadn't decided to do the cyanide shuffle."

"So now I should start shooting every bad guy I go up against instead of taking them down using other means?" Kim retorted, pulling away from her boyfriend to stand beside the bed. "Is that what this is all about?"

"Kim, you're blowing this all out of proportion," Ron said, unruffled by Kim's reaction. "I'm not saying you should go all Lara Croft on everybody; what I—and Kate and Dr. Director—are saying is you shouldn't totally turf the idea. Just make it another tool at your disposal. You saw it yourself tonight—it can come in handy."

Kim exhaled deeply. "Maybe you're right," she finally said after a moment of ponderous silence. She sat back down on the bed in a lotus position facing Ron, her hands folded in her lap, staring at them. Neither said anything for a moment, then Ron noticed Kim's shoulders start shaking. At first he thought she was crying again, but when he reached to take her hand, he heard the snort.

"What's so funny?" he asked, nonplussed.

"I'm sorry, Ronnie," she said between chuckles, "but it just struck me—whoever thought _you_ would be the one offering _me_ advice on this kind of thing?"

Ron tried to look hurt, but couldn't keep the charade up. Between the irony of Kim's statement—even he could admit he wasn't exactly a normally insightful person—and her infectious laughter, soon he, too was laughing almost uncontrollably. It took them a few minutes, but they did finally regain control of themselves. Kim laid back down beside her boyfriend and wrapped her arm around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Thank you, baby," she whispered, kissing him tenderly.

"Hey, that's what you keep me around for," Ron replied, gazing deeply into Kim's eyes, "moral support and the odd insightful comment."

Kim smiled as she put her hand to the side of Ron's face; her thumb gently tracing the three freckles there (she secretly hoped his freckles would never fade away). "That's just the tip of the iceberg, Ron," she said softly, "I have so many reasons to keep you around, I'd never be able to list them all… but here's the only one that matters." With that, she leaned closer to his cheek, her eyes almost closed.

"I…" she whispered, kissing the freckle closest to his ear.

"…love…" she kissed the one closest his nose.

"…you," she kissed the lower of the three, and then kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"Boo-yah," Ron whispered in reply, holding Kim's body as close to him as he could. Kim reached across her boyfriend and shut the bedside lamp off, then drew the covers back up to their chins. She snuggled as deep as she could both under the covers and into her boyfriend, her arms around his midriff and head against his chest. Not five minutes later, both were sound asleep and wearing content smiles on their faces.

* * *

Things were starting to calm down in Lowerton. While Captain McShane was a bit annoyed that Kim and Ron bailed out without reporting back to her, she took it as one of the side-effects of bringing in outside help and took it in stride. Both she and Detective Craddock gave statements to the press; they confirmed that the hostages were safe and Team Possible was indeed involved in the extraction, but other details would not be divulged pending a full investigation. Some of the reporters tried to get more out of them, of course, but were promptly shooed away. 

Throughout the entire ordeal, Detective Jack Craddock's gut was telling him somebody was watching them. At first it bothered him to no end, but in the end, he surmised it may have been the fact there were probably snipers stationed at various strategic locations. Still, he couldn't entirely shake the foreboding in his gut as he lit yet another cigarette and leaned on the back bumper of a patrol car.

"Okay, Jack; I'll bite. What's eating you?" Captain McShane asked, leaning against the car beside her top detective. Craddock was silent for a moment, taking a drag from his cigarette before he spoke.

"Something stinks, Captain," he finally growled, the scowl on his face nasty enough to make a freight train take a dirt road. "Ever since we got here, my gut's been telling me something just ain't right."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"I can't put my finger on it, but I just got this feeling there's more going on here… and it's got nothing to do with Harding Transportation's internal troubles."

"I could've told you that, Jack," McShane said impatiently. "None of the hostages recognized any of the men, and two of them were from the HR department."

"So what in the name of Christ is going on, then?" Craddock spat.

"I don't know, Jack; I really don't," McShane muttered, "but you're right. Something about this whole thing stinks… what possesses three paramilitary agents to take hostages in a building that has no strategic value whatsoever?"

McShane's question hung in the air for some time; Craddock's gaze wandering around the rooftops surrounding their position. Ten years as an Army Ranger gave him an insight that his captain probably never would have; namely to the question she had just posed. Taking a final drag from his cigarette, Craddock dropped the butt to the ground and crushed it out with his foot as he pondered the quandary. Suddenly, a thought came to him, causing him to mutter an oath.

"What was that, Jack?" McShane said, still standing beside him.

"This was all an exercise; that's the only thing that makes sense!" Craddock said, his expression one of dawning clarity. "That's the only reason any military organization would conduct an operation that had no strategic value… it had to be some sort of training or testing exercise!"

"I thought _Posse Comitatus _outlawed that?"

"Only where the US Armed Forces are concerned," Craddock growled. "These guys weren't ours; no idea who they were, but they sure as hell weren't GI. Besides, even without _Posse Comitatus,_ the United States military wouldn't drag innocent civilians into the middle of a live-fire situation."

"Why would anybody drag innocent civilians into it, GI or not?"

"I wish I knew," Craddock muttered, rubbing his chin.

* * *

On a rooftop about a block away, the entire scene was being observed by a solitary dark figure. Dressed in black leather motorcycle gear, she was crouched next to an HVAC unit and watching through a pair of tactical field glasses. Satisfied she would learn nothing more from her current vantage point, she lowered her glasses and returned to where she'd stashed her gear behind the HVAC unit, well away from the edge of the roof and started packing up to return to her employer's base of operations to file a full report. 

As she packed her gear, she reflected on the events she'd borne witness to that evening. Sure, most of it was planned; but at the same time she was both surprised and impressed with how flawlessly her boss' plans had been executed. He'd _known_ the Lowerton PD would call in Kim Possible to help with the extraction; he had almost predicted their method of entry exactly (he'd predicted they would just burst through the boardroom door rather than use explosives)… and he also knew the three operatives he'd sent in to take the hostages would not be leaving alive. All of his operatives—herself included—were equipped with concealed cyanide capsules affixed to the roof of the mouth; in the event of capture, they were to ingest the capsule immediately.

What surprised the woman the most, however, was her mysterious employer's prediction that, before the end of the night, Kim Possible would not only defeat his operatives, but would also use a firearm to defend herself. She thought she knew everything there was to know about the teenaged hero; including her complete and utter opposition to firearms. If it weren't for the fact she witnessed the events herself, she probably _still_ wouldn't believe Kim Possible held a .45-caliber pistol in her hand and fired it at another living being—hell, even the fact that Kim held the pistol in the first place would have been a stretch. However unbelievable the events were, though, was irrelevant; the facts were there in black and white and ready to be delivered to "Hawk" for analysis (her employer's codename never failed to make her chuckle—did he think he was on _Spenser, For Hire_ or something?). Hoisting her now-packed duffel, the woman left her observation post and mounted her waiting motorcycle—a Suzuki Hayabusa—to make good her return to her employer's base of operations.

Fifteen minutes later, the Hayabusa and its lone rider pulled off the highway and onto a desolate stretch of two-lane blacktop in the middle of the desert. Turning south, bike and rider rocketed along the asphalt at speeds pushing 155mph, making short work of the final leg of the spy's journey back to her employer's base of operations; an abandoned private airfield near the New Mexico border. Despite the outrageously high speeds the Suzuki was capable of, it was still approaching midnight before the mysterious woman rolled to a stop beside an intercom at the gated airfield entrance and pressed the call button, flipping up the visor on her helmet as she did so.

"Yeah?" a lazy voice said from the other end.

"Tell Hawk that Peregrine's back and ready to report," the woman said. Almost immediately, the gate started to roll aside as if by its own volition. Peregrine put the bike back in gear and idled through, no longer in a rush to get where she was going. She drove the bike lazily across the grounds, stopping only when she reached the partially-open door of one of the hangars. A figure emerged from the shadows of the hangar interior and approached her as the hangar's door opened a bit wider.

"Hawk's waiting for you inside," he said to her, relieving her of the duffel bag. "Montrose and I'll go over whatever data you collected from tonight's operation."

"Whatever," Peregrine said indifferently, revving the bike's engine a couple of times before taking it into the hangar and parking it beside a black Hummer. She shut the bike off and just sat on the machine for a moment, contemplating once again the scene she'd witnessed earlier in the evening before finally dismounting and going to her debriefing with the mysterious Hawk. She made her way to the man's office quickly; the sooner she got there, the sooner she could get out of there and go take a long, hot shower.

She arrived at Hawk's office roughly a minute later and strode in without knocking; something the man shrouded in darkness had come to expect. Peregrine had never been one to knock; she would just burst in unannounced. Hawk was convinced she did so to try to catch him out of his cocoon of shadow and actually see his face, but so far she had failed to do so. He actually found it rather amusing, but he would never let anybody know that—least of which Peregrine.

"Report," he said once the door had shut behind the woman.

"You called it," she said, her voice muffled behind the face guard of her helmet. "Kim Possible saves the day again."

"What of our operatives?"

"Dead," Peregrine replied flatly, "all three of 'em."

"At the hand of Miss Possible?" he asked with a note of surprise.

"No," Peregrine replied, "at their own hands. Possible tripped Borsky up, then her and her boyfriend took down Jazz and Hoss and took their guns. Stoppable herded the hostages out around the time Borsky came to; he jumped up and took a potshot at Possible. He missed her; she shot him in the shoulder and started interrogating him. After a couple of minutes, Borsky figured out he was fucked, so he took the Kool-Aid Express."

"What about Jazz and Hoss?"

"I'm guessing when Possible and Stoppable took them down, their cyanide caps busted and killed them; might wanna look into that."

"Indeed," Hawk muttered. "That will be all, Peregrine; you're excused."

Without another word, Peregrine turned and left Hawk's office, the door slamming behind her. Hawk remained still for some time, pondering the information Peregrine had provided him. All in all, he wasn't surprised at the way the evening's events unfolded; in fact, he was more surprised at how accurately he _had_ predicted the evening's outcome. Still, there was much work to be done before he could go ahead with the second phase of the plan.

Sighing, Hawk picked up his telephone and dialed a number from memory. On the second ring, the call was answered. "It went as we expected," he said simply, skipping formalities. "All three of my men are dead… yes; Miss Possible was involved… yes; albeit inadvertently—the cyanide capsules aren't as durable as they perhaps should be… I believe that would be wise… very well… good evening to you."

Hanging up the phone, Hawk once again leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. Patience was indeed a virtue he had been blessed with, and under his current contract, patience was something he—and his crew—would need vast amounts of.

* * *

_A/N: The plot thickens! This thing just kinda took off on me in ways I didn't expect when I started on this chapter, but it's giving me ideas on how to progress. One of the curses I'm afflicted with is writing myself into a corner and not being able to carry the plot forward… thankfully, other than a couple of near-misses, that hasn't happened with this story to date._

_I debated continuing on, but decided instead to end this chapter here. It's not exactly a cliffhanger (which I like in moderation, but not for every blessed chapter :p), but it still leaves unanswered questions to ponder… who knows; somebody out there might figure out what I'm doing with it before I do (just do me a favor and don't spoil the surprise)!_

_As always, a big thank you to all the readers and reviewers out there; you're the main reason I've been able to continue here where other works have faltered. Keep 'em coming, and see ya next chapter._


	7. Chapter Six

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__ The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental.__

* * *

_

A/N: I just want to take a moment before the beginning of this chapter to properly thank all those that have reviewed this story so far; saying a vague, generalized "thanks" just doesn't seem to be enough—you took the time to write a review, so now I'm going to take the time to properly recognize you. 

_So, without further ado, here's to (deep breath): CajunBear73, Meca Vegeta, basketballgal23, SolarinStudio, zardoz101, DRIFTA, BubbaHotek, KnightOfFaerun, bthecatslayer, Ran Hakubi, The Samurai Crunchbird, Niquest, azula beautiful but deadly, M-Warrior, shthar, BrianLeeB, ShadowBlade989, and last but not least, Funkatron for all dropping by long enough to offer their reviews. You've all made my world a little brighter by taking the time to offer your feedback, and I appreciate it greatly._

_With that out of the way, on with the story!

* * *

__**CHAPTER SIX**_

At Global Justice headquarters, Kate was still doing everything she could to stay occupied. Luckily, the after-dinner hours were habitually spent as her "cool-down" time; taking things easy with either a book or some television before going to bed. Lounging on the couch, the mint-hued woman was flipping channels and smoking a cigarette when she came across the national news network. She was just about to surf on by when she caught Kim's name in the caption at the bottom of the screen, so she instead turned up the volume, crushing her cigarette out in the ashtray on a nearby end table.

On the screen as she turned it up was an on-scene reporter talking to the camera, with a building surrounded by police tape—and several police cars with lights flashing—as the backdrop. _"—to recap, the hostage situation at Harding Transportation's head office has been resolved thanks to the help of Team Possible. All four hostages have been confirmed alive and well by Lowerton Police Captain Laura McShane, however we still have no information on the suspects at this time. Captain McShane has declined further comment, other than to also confirm that Team Possible has already left the scene. We have received unconfirmed reports of shots fired in the building during the extraction process, however we do not have solid information to either confirm or deny these rumors at this time. For now, we'll send it back to Christine Duvall and the national newsroom; be sure to keep it here for further updates as they become available. This is Todd Brown; Lowerton, Colorado."_

Kate shut the television off in disgust, throwing the remote to the opposite end of the couch with a grunt. "Bunch of media bullshit," she muttered to herself. Sitting in the silence, she reviewed the events of the evening as she knew them—and realized she knew precisely squat that she could rely on. With another frustrated groan, she stood from the couch and made her way to the computer desk in the corner of the room, intent on finding out some more accurate information about the situation Kim and Ron had been involved in. She opened her email and composed a quick message, sending it to an address she'd been provided with earlier in the day.

Less than sixty seconds later, her telephone rang in reply to the email. She grabbed the extension on the computer desk before it even finished the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Kate," Wade said on the other end, "I just got your message. I'm guessing you saw the news coverage of Lowerton, huh?"

"Yeah; now I'm looking for the real story," Kate replied shortly. "Just what the hell happened out there tonight?"

"I got a hit on the site from Captain McShane requesting Kim's help, so I beeped her and Ron and dispatched them both," Wade explained. "They got there, got the lowdown from Captain McShane and infiltrated the building after I hacked the security cameras."

"When did it hit the fan?"

"About two minutes after they first entered the boardroom where the hostages were being held," Wade replied with a sigh. "They took down the suspects fairly easily and got the hostages out, but one of them came to before the cops could come in and started shooting the place up. Kim got lucky on the first volley, but it was point-blank the second time around."

"Jesus fuck," Kate muttered under her breath, only realizing who she was talking to after she said it. "Sorry, Wade; slip of the tongue."

"Don't mention it," Wade said dismissively. "Anyway, the guy was coming around for another shot at Kim, but she got him first with a shot to the shoulder."

"Hang on," Kate said, "you mean Kim was packing when she went in there? After she preached about how she didn't need a gun?"

"Not exactly," Wade said. "When they first went in and took the guys down, they stripped two of them of their sidearms—H&K MK23's, if you're curious—but they got sloppy and left the third guy with his weapon… an Uzi."

"So Kim had one of the other guys' guns in her hand and made a snap decision, huh?"

"That just about sums it up," Wade said. "Ron had already herded the hostages out, so it was just Kim and the three suspects in the room when the fireworks started."

"So what's the score now?"

"All three suspects are dead," the tech guru said bitterly. "Turns out they had suicide pills in their mouths… Kim watched the Uzi guy eat his."

"Jesus Christ," Kate muttered again, this time not bothering to apologize for her language. "How's Kim holding up?"

"We're not sure yet," Wade replied. "She just called for a cleanup crew and asked me to find them a back way out of there… I haven't talked to them since, but Ron's with her."

"Thank God," Kate said. "Thanks a million, Wade… now, can you do me a favor?"

"You got it."

"Tell Kim I'm still expecting her tomorrow morning," she said seriously. "She'll probably end up spending most of the night talking to Ron, so that should help her cope, but she's gotta get back in the saddle if she expects to come out of this sane."

"I'll pass the message along first thing in the morning," Wade said, "anything else?"

"Nah; I'll antagonize her myself when she gets here," Kate replied with a chuckle. "Take it easy, Nerdlinger."

"You too, Kate," Wade said with a chuckle of his own as he disconnected the call.

Kate replaced the receiver in its cradle, relieved in the fact that Kim and Ron were indeed alright, but at the same time slightly disturbed by the situation as Wade described it. Not only did Kim come into a live-fire situation unprepared; she also witnessed something that could easily traumatize a person for life.

With another sigh, the former villainess left the computer desk and returned to the couch, extracting another cigarette from the pack next to the ashtray as she sat down. Mimicking the motion she'd used when she first spoke with Wade at the graduation ceremony, she lit the cigarette from a slender green flame emanating from her thumb. She took a thoughtful drag, letting the smoke curl lazily from her nostrils as she exhaled. _Who the hell would pull a stunt like that? Sure wasn't like anybody I've ever heard of before,_ she mused.

Crushing out her cigarette in the ashtray, Kate realized there was really no point driving herself crazy over who had orchestrated the seemingly pointless hostage-taking. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, she rose from the couch with a sigh and made her way to her bedroom. _Maybe a good night's sleep will help,_ she thought idly as she closed the door behind her and crawled into the surprisingly-comfortable queen-size bed. As she drifted off to sleep, she hoped against hope that Kim would keep her sparring appointment and not let the trauma of her experience take over her life.

She wasn't disappointed. The next morning at precisely ten o'clock, Kate was doing some light weight training when she heard somebody enter the gym behind her. Turning around, her face broke into a grin when she saw Kim approaching her, a workout bag slung over her shoulder and a water bottle in her hand. Replacing the dumbbells she'd been using on the rack, she picked up her own water bottle and took a drink from it before speaking.

"Heard you had an interesting day yesterday," she said simply as Kim put her bag down.

"That's one way to look at it," the redhead replied with a bemused smirk. "It was definitely a situation I never expected to be in—not anytime soon, anyway."

"Hell of a way to finish off your day, huh?"

"That's for sure," Kim replied, chuckling slightly. "On the bright side, it meant I got to spend the night with Ron without my dad threatening to ship him to a black hole."

"Oh, so the Princess isn't quite as innocent as one might believe, huh?" Kate said with an exaggerated leer. "Is what they say about big hands true?"

"Kate!" Kim exclaimed, her cheeks quickly turning a similar hue as her hair. "That's not what I meant! Besides, I don't kiss and tell," she added with a haughty toss of her head.

"Fair enough," Kate chuckled, moving to a bench press station. "Spot me?"

"Sure," Kim said, moving to stand behind the head of the bench. "So how did you hear about the sitch last night?"

"Saw the gimped national news version and called Nerdlinger to get the real story," Kate said as she started on the weights.

"So Wade gave you the low-down, huh?"

"Pretty much, yep," the mint-skinned woman replied. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No… yes," Kim said with a sigh. "Kate… I owe you an apology."

"For what?" the elder woman said, a note of surprise in her voice.

"For being such the jerk the other day," she replied as she watched Kate lift the weights. "I was being closed-minded to the whole thing… last night was exactly what you and Dr. Director tried to warn me about."

Kate replaced the barbell in its cradle and sat up, turning to look at Kim before speaking. "Kim, you don't owe me an apology," she said, "but like you said, last night was a bit of an eye-opener for both you and Ron. Kind of a shitty way to go about it, but that's how life goes sometimes."

"No kidding," Kim muttered wryly. "At least you didn't say 'I told you so.'"

"Well, I can if you really want me to," Kate quipped.

"I'll pass, thanks," Kim chuckled, swatting Kate on the shoulder. "I gotta admit, though; it would've been a lot harder to handle if it weren't for Ron. He really put things into perspective for me."

"So I'm guessing you'll reconsider Dr. Director's offer?"

"Definitely," Kim replied with a nod. "I'm planning on talking to her after we're done here."

"That's not a half-bad idea," the older woman remarked. Standing up, she put an arm around Kim's shoulders and gave her a semi-affectionate squeeze. "Believe it or not… I'm glad you're okay."

Kim put her arm around Kate's waist and gave her a squeeze in return, turning to smile at the older woman. "I appreciate that, Kate; I really do," she said as they disengaged from each other. "Hey, have you heard anything about Wade's Attitudinator theory yet?"

"Nah, nothing so far," Kate said with a shrug. "Personally, I don't buy it; not to the extent the GJ eggheads are playing it up, anyway."

"What makes you say that?" Kim asked, clearly intrigued by the emerald woman's statement.

"Well, you remember what Hego said about me getting into villainy because I liked it? That's true, but it's more than just that." She slumped onto a butterfly machine's bench before continuing. "You know what my brothers are like; the twins are okay, but the other two are grade-A morons… I used to be able to keep them in line, but Hego's holier-than-thou attitude was wearing me down bit by bit until one day I just snapped.

"At first I didn't plan on playing for the other team; I worked as a bodyguard for a couple of diplomats overseas, did some stunt work in Hollywood… I was even a coffee jerk at a Starbucks in Denver for awhile." Kim couldn't help but snicker at that admission; Kate ignored her and continued with her story regardless. "Finally, one day I get an email from some dude saying he wants to hire me, offers me what I normally would charge for bodyguard duty as a monthly salary—big coin, in other words—and throws in full health benefits. I asked him what his game was, and all he said was everything would be disclosed if and when I accepted the position."

"Let me guess," Kim ventured, "the guy was Drakken."

"Bingo," Kate said wryly. "Of course, the money _was_ more than a little alluring, but I still had no idea what he was up to until after I signed the contract. At first, when he told me about his grand schemes of global conquest, I told him I wanted out, but he was… persuasive."

"Persuasive? I don't understand," Kim said. Kate let out a humorless laugh as she explained.

"Believe it or not, somewhere in that blue brain of his is an extremely devious son of a bitch," she growled. "He started off small, just getting me to steal the odd piece here and there—and I'll admit it; I got off on the challenge—but it kept building. Before I knew it, he was back to his world-domination plans, and I was caught in the middle of it without a clear way out."

"But you finally just bailed on him; why didn't you do it sooner?"

"Like I said, I got off on the challenge," Kate replied, taking a draught from her water bottle before continuing. "I found a way to make it fun, and rationalized it by telling myself I wasn't really _hurting_ anybody… unless they picked a fight with me, which was no different than my days with Team Go. Then you came into the picture, and I knew there was no way dumbass was ever going to accomplish any of his contrived schemes, so I stuck around to scrap with you and poke fun at him."

"And it was his order for you to kill me that finally made you say enough was enough?" Kim ventured.

"That was the final nail in the coffin, yeah," Kate said, nodding, "but that wasn't the start."

"What was?"

"Indirectly… the Attitudinator," Kate said. "Remember at your graduation Wade found that photo-booth picture? Well, after I got nailed that last time and turned back into my normal self, I still remembered everything we did when I was Miss Go… and I missed it."

"Really?"

Kate nodded; looking at her hands as she wrung them together, then back up at Kim with watery eyes. "Kim, do you know how long it's been since I had friends… _real_ friends? Friends that I could hang out with, go shopping with; talk to about life's little day-to-day gripes?" When Kim shook her head, the ebony-haired vixen continued. "Ten years… ever since my junior year of high school."

"My God, Kate," Kim said, kneeling beside the former villainess, "I'm sorry."

"I don't need your sympathy, Kim," Kate replied with a hint of bitterness in her voice. "What's done is done, and I'm ready to move on… which is the main reason I came to you and told you I'm ready to go straight. Helping you and GJ take Drakken down is my way of trying to make up for the things I've done in the past."

"Well, for what it's worth… I'm glad to have you on our side," Kim said with a smile. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened between you and the friend you had in high school?"

"Long story," Kate replied with a wry chuckle. _"Cliff's Notes_ version; we basically grew up together, then in our junior year of high school she decided I was too weird to be her friend, so she just pushed me away."

"Harsh," Kim commented. "Was that when you and your brothers got hit with that comet?"

"Yeah," Kate nodded. "I thought it was kinda cool, personally; being able to throw fire. She, on the other hand, thought it was way too freaky for her taste, so she just up and told me one day she didn't want to hang out with me anymore… haven't spoken to her since."

"If she did that to you, she wasn't a friend worth having anyway," Kim stated flatly. "I know it sounds trite and cliché to say, but a real friend wouldn't just abandon their friends because something happened to them."

"I tried to tell myself that, but after awhile I just wasn't believing it anymore," the older woman said, her shoulders slumped. "Since then, I always made sure I pushed people away before they got close enough to hurt me."

"And now…?" Kim prompted, hoping against hope Kate would say what she wanted to hear.

"I'm tired of pushing people away," the jade-hued woman said, obviously struggling to keep her voice steady. "I'm tired of running; tired of being alone all the time. I just want to live a normal life and maybe—just _maybe—_have a chance to have friends again."

Kim wiped a tear from her eye as she listened to Kate's resolve slowly crumble. She never realized that the mint-skinned woman that was once her arch-foe had led such a hard life even _before_ she'd quit Team Go. "Well, you're off to a good start," the redheaded hero said, putting a comforting hand on Kate's shoulder as she spoke, "you've already got yourself one friend right here."

Kate looked up, locking gazes with Kim. "That means a lot to me, Kim; especially considering how many times I tried to wipe the floor with you."

"Note you said 'tried,'" Kim replied with a wink. "Hey, if you can forgive me for giving you a fifty-thousand volt enema; I can forgive a couple of bruises here and there."

"One of the bonuses of having comet-induced superpowers," Kate said, grinning wryly, "getting fried won't fry me."

"I can see how that would be a benefit," Kim giggled. "So, whaddaya say we hit the training mats and get down to the real reason I'm here?"

"You're on, Princess," Kate replied as she stood. "Just don't expect me to go easy on you just because we're on the same side now."

"I wouldn't dream of it." With that, the two women made their way to the workout mats to start their match.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Team Possible command center, Wade Load was reviewing the security camera logs from the previous evening. Not only did he save the entire logs from the Harding building, but he also acquired the camera logs from the surrounding buildings, hoping one of them may have caught something that didn't happen right in the Harding building itself. He'd been at it most of the night—stopping only long enough to take a two-hour catnap and grab a granola bar for breakfast—and was starting to lose hope.

"These guys were way too organized to be alone," he muttered to himself as he scanned through another camera angle, chewing idly. "They had to have some intel somewhere… but where?" With a sigh, the dark-skinned teen went to yet another camera; this one from a neighboring building with a slightly higher roofline than the Harding edifice. Rather than watching every single minute of footage from every camera (come on; Wade's good, but even he's not _that_ good), he would pick several key points throughout the day from likely angles and see if anything showed up. So far he'd had no luck, but that didn't deter him; if nothing else, his determination to find clues rivaled that of Kim Possible's. Even so, he was starting to get discouraged; he'd been through who knows how many camera angles already with no luck, and the one he was currently scrutinizing didn't hold much hope, either. It wasn't helping that the first two hours of footage were useless; the camera faced east and the morning sun was shining directly into its lens, effectively obliterating any useful images.

With a sigh, the Team Possible tech guru skimmed through the footage, all but skipping the part blocked by the sun. Returning the recording to real-time playback, he sat back and watched for awhile, his eyes constantly shifting around the screen in search of something—_anything—_that he could use.

Twenty minutes later his patience and due diligence were rewarded. His hawk-like gaze caught movement on a roof about a block away, prompting him to pause the playback. "What have we here," he muttered, zooming in on the figure crouched next to the HVAC unit. Unfortunately, other than being able to tell the figure was obviously female, there was next to nothing to go on. He did notice, however, that the woman was rather engrossed in whatever was on her laptop screen… almost like she was watching something._ I wonder…_

Playing a hunch, Wade re-accessed the security camera logs from the Harding building, specifically between midnight and 8:45—the timestamp on the security footage containing the mysterious woman in leather. Sure enough, at roughly twenty minutes to eight, Wade found the telltale signs of a security camera system being hacked into. _So I wasn't the only one watching things from the outside._

Returning to the camera footage, the teen genius started looking at it more closely in the hopes of finding other clues, either to the individual's identity or that of the organization she was with. He could tell straightaway there were no markings on either her leathers or the full-face helmet she wore, so he decided to try and find the laptop somewhere on the grid. He knew it was a long shot, but it was somewhere to start, anyway… if she was sloppy, there would be an electronic trail leading right back to her.

She was good, though—good enough that Wade was impressed. She had left a trail; the only problem was it led nowhere. The laptop she'd been using when she remote accessed the Harding security network was stolen from a businessman's car in Denver two weeks previous (as the dark-skinned guru discovered when he traced it), making it a red herring rather than a valid lead. Sighing in frustration, Wade leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his eyes… never before had he been this stumped; and while the challenge did have a certain appeal to it, it was rapidly wearing on his nerves.

Having decided it was time to walk away for a moment to regroup, Wade had just about risen from his seat when a popup appeared on his computer screen, alerting him to an incoming transmission from Global Justice. He accepted the transmission, re-settling himself in his chair as Dr. Director's face appeared on the screen.

"Good morning, Dr. Load," the woman said, her face and voice neutral. "I see we're not the only ones that have been burning the midnight oil on this mystery."

"Did you monitor my activity, or are you just going by the bags under my eyes?" Wade replied with a smirk.

"A little of each," she said with a smirk of her own. "You do realize, Wade, that my staff is more than capable of working on things while you get some sleep… you're not in this one alone."

"Yeah, I know," the young phenom sighed, "I just can't stand leaving something unfinished—not to mention it's not exactly something I'm used to; normally I've got my answers by now."

"Believe me; I know exactly where you're coming from… I hate the idea of leaving something half-done, myself. Once you get this side of thirty, though, you start to realize that some things just have to wait—if you don't look after yourself, then you'll be no good to anybody."

"I know that, too," Wade said wryly, "Kim's mom reminds me on a regular basis."

"And she's right, so I won't keep you long," Director said, "I just wanted to check up on your progress; perhaps our combined intelligence will yield something we've both missed."

"So far, I've got next to nothing," Wade said, "only thing I've got of any interest is some security camera footage of a woman on a roof monitoring the security cameras. I'll send you the footage." Director nodded as Wade typed a few commands, saving and sending the file. In a matter of seconds, she received notification of the received file and opened it, watching the footage intently as it played out. "I know it's not much, but it's a bit of a start."

"This seems vaguely familiar," Director muttered, her gaze still on the screen showing the camera footage. "I think we may have come across this before, but I'm not sure where… I'll have my intelligence department take a look at this and see if they can uncover any additional information."

"You mean you haven't got anything yet?" Wade asked incredulously.

"We were concentrating on the suspects' backgrounds," Director replied, "which, unfortunately, yielded nothing."

"There was no connection between them?"

"Nothing obvious other than military backgrounds," the GJ administrator said, a hint of annoyance evident in her normally-stony demeanor. "They're all from different parts of the country, they all served with different branches of the Forces, and none of their units ever worked together during their tenures… none of it fits together as a common thread."

"What about this woman on the roof? I tried tracing her through the laptop, but it was stolen, so it's a bum steer."

"We'll have to see if we can identify her… like I said, she seems familiar. We'll check our database here and see if somebody matching that description comes up."

"Okay; I'll do some more hunting of my own from this end. Between your guys and me, we should be able to at least find _something,"_ Wade said.

"Agreed," Director nodded. "Right now, though, I would strongly suggest you get yourself some rest and maybe a decent meal—something tells me you've been living on water and Quaker bars ever since this whole fiasco started."

"Are you tapping my personal security again, Doctor?"

"Not at all, Doctor; merely making a presumption based on the knowledge of my allies," Director replied with a smirk. "Look after yourself, Wade; Kim and Ron need you in top form… now more than ever."

"Thanks, Dr. Director," the teen said with an appreciative grin, "I will. Let me know as soon as you find anything?"

"You can count on it—on condition that you do the same for us."

"Deal," Wade said with a smile, cutting the connection. Leaving his seat, the teen decided that maybe a decent nap and something more nutritious than a granola bar wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

* * *

"God_damn_ it, Princess!" Kate growled as she stumbled through the front door of her barracks, "I don't ever remember you hitting that hard!" 

"Oh, shut up," Kim replied through clenched teeth as she followed the mint-skinned woman, kicking the door shut behind her. "You didn't exactly take it easy on me, either, y'know."

"Got me there," the former villainess chuckled, slumping onto the couch with a groan. "Have you been strength training, or am I just getting old?"

"Yes on both counts." Kim's sadistic smirk was met by Kate glaring daggers at her, causing the redhead to laugh. "I'm just kidding, Kate; you're only a couple years older than me… kinda like a big sister."

"Thanks… I think," Kate muttered as Kim sank into an armchair, favoring her left side. "I didn't go too hard on you, did I?" she asked, noticing the pained grimace on the teen's face as she sat down.

"Nah… at least, no worse than any other time we fought," she replied, favoring her left side. "I gotta admit, though; that had to be about the best workout I've had in a long time."

"That makes two of us," Kate sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "Where's Midas when you need him, anyway?"

"Oh, your masseur from Greece?"

"Yeah… God, but that man had magic hands," she replied wistfully. "Trust me; if you ever get a chance to spend a few days at that resort, do what you can to get an appointment with him—it'll be the best hundred bucks you ever spent."

"I dunno about that, Kate; my Ron's got some pretty magic hands of his own," Kim replied with a salacious grin. "Ever since we got together, the rides home after missions have become _much_ more enjoyable."

"Okay, Kimmie, I don't need to hear the sordid details of your unsupervised time with your man," the ebony-haired vixen growled. "I still don't understand how your parents can, in good conscience, let two hormone-addled teenagers—that are _dating,_ I might add—go globetrotting on a regular basis without adult supervision."

"Simple; we haven't done anything to betray their trust," Kim replied with a shrug. "We haven't done anything inappropriate together—either going to or from a mission, or otherwise."

"You expect me to believe that?" Kate scoffed.

"Believe it or not, it's the truth," Kim said. "Doesn't mean we haven't been tempted, but cooler heads have prevailed."

"And how long do you figure the iron will is gonna hold out?"

Kim couldn't help but giggle and blush as she responded. "Not much longer," she said simply, causing her companion to burst out laughing. Kate was about to respond to Kim's comment when her telephone rang, interrupting the thought. She gave herself a moment to compose her laughter before picking up the receiver on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Miss Gogh; Dr. Director here," the voice at the other end stated, "could you and Miss Possible meet me in my office in roughly fifteen minutes?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Something I would like both of you to see," she replied simply. "We'll discuss it further when you get here."

"Okay; see you then," Kate said, hanging up. Noticing Kim's inquisitive gaze, she passed Director's message along to her.

"Wonder if it's to do with last night, or if it's a lead on Drakken?" Kim said, scratching her chin.

"Dunno," Kate replied, "but either way, it's gotta be better than nothing."

"I sure hope so," the auburn-headed hero said, rising. "She said fifteen minutes, so we should probably go see what she's got."

"Lead the way," Kate said, following her newfound friend out the door. Both women walked in ponderous silence, curious as to why they were being summoned to the Global Justice head's office, Kate a half-step behind Kim.

"Thank you both for coming on such short notice," Dr. Director said as they took seats in front of her desk not ten minutes after the call. "I won't keep you long, but we've come across something from last night that I thought you both might find interesting."

"Is it a clue to our perpetrators?" Kim asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

"Yes; albeit a poor one," Director replied, turning her flat-screen monitor around so both Kim and Kate could see the images on it. "Doctor Load was reviewing outdoor security camera footage from many of the surrounding buildings in hopes of finding something… and he did." With a couple of clicks of her mouse, Director brought up enhanced still shots from the footage Wade had sent her that morning. "Apparently he wasn't the only one monitoring security cameras last night." Both Kim and Kate looked on as Director paged through the images, hoping something would jump out at either one of them.

Kate was the first to react. "Hold it! That last picture—can you bring it back up?" Director complied, bringing the requested photo back onto the screen so the former villainess could take a closer look. Kate leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied the leather-clad figure in the image. It was some time before the woman spoke, and it wasn't a voice filled with conviction. "With that damn helmet on her head, I can't say for sure… but that almost looks like Peregrine."

"Who?" Kim asked, unfamiliar with the name.

"Peregrine," Kate explained, her gaze never leaving the screen. "She's a mercenary—a lot like I was when I was with Drakken… minus the comet-induced powers, of course."

"Of course," Director smirked. "Is there anything you can tell us about this Peregrine that would make her that much easier to identify?"

"Well… I guess the main thing would be her bike," Kate said, scratching her chin as she spoke. "She's got a customized Suzuki Hayabusa—wildest thing I've ever seen on two wheels."

"Would it be easily identifiable if you saw a picture of it?"

"Oh, hell yes," Kate scoffed, leaning back in her chair. "I've had the hots for that bike ever since the first time I saw it."

Director nodded in satisfaction, opening another screenshot at the same time. "Is this it?"

"Oh, yeah, that's it, alright," Kate muttered, gazing appreciatively at the pictured motorcycle.

"Okay, so at least now we know who's been watching us," Kim said, ignoring Kate's apparent infatuation with the motorcycle still pictured on Director's computer screen. "Does that give us anything useful?"

"Not right now, but I'll give this information to our intel staff. Hopefully they'll find something useful," Director said, turning her screen back to face herself. Kate sighed wistfully, but said nothing as she leaned back in her seat, much to the amusement of the other women present. "Admittedly, it's not much to go on, but it's a starting point."

"Sorry I couldn't do more to help," Kate said with a shrug, "but like I said, Peregrine came on the scene around the time I started not giving a shit anymore, so I don't know a whole lot about her."

"You gave us information we didn't have before; that's more help than I dared hoped for," the administrator said gratefully. Turning to face Kim, she spoke again. "Now, Miss Possible, I'd like to speak with you on a somewhat different matter."

"What's that?" the teen asked, her curiosity obviously piqued.

"The discussion we had the other night," the older woman replied frankly. "I'm wondering if, in light of recent events, you may have reconsidered my offer."

"As a matter of fact, I have…"

* * *

_A/N: Man, is this thing ever developing a life of its own! I was hoping to do more with this chapter than I did, but I figured it was getting long enough and decided to end this chapter here rather than keep going and have one chapter almost as long as the rest of the story combined. The points that I haven't managed to get to in this chapter will be touched on in the next one—and for those looking for action, that's coming, too._

As always, reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated and welcomed; they're the fuel that keeps my creative fire burning. Thanks again to all those that have reviewed/commented in the past, and I hope to hear from readers old and new again with this chapter. 

_Until next time,_

_Deuce._


	8. Chapter Seven

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:** The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental._

**_

* * *

_**

**_CHAPTER SEVEN_**

"Man, there's a lot more to this than I thought," Ron said, running a hand through his hair. Both he and Kim had just finished their theoretical training with one of Global Justice's top firearm instructors and were taking a half-hour break before going to the firing range to start their practical training.

"It makes sense when you think about it, though," Kim replied, flipping through her copy of the handbook they'd been given. "Proper handling and care, ammunition guide, safety tips… it's not like it's a cap gun from a _Cowboys and Indians_ set, after all."

"As usual, you have a point," he said with a grin as they took up places in line at the compound's commissary, "and, as usual, you'll ace this thing."

"I dunno, Ron," the redhead said, trepidation evident in her voice, "Lowerton was a heat-of-the-moment thing; I don't think I could do that twice."

Since they'd beaten the lunch rush, Ron had to wait until they'd ordered, paid for their meals and sat down at a table before he could respond to Kim's comment. "Oh, come on, KP; you always hit your target when you use your grappler; why would this be any different?"

"Trust me, the recoil on the grappler has nothing on a gun," Kim replied dryly. "I'm lucky I didn't shoot wide—or worse, kill him outright."

Noticing Kim's expression darken as she remembered that night, Ron decided to change the tack of the conversation. "On a different note, what's the plan for tomorrow?"

"Well, barring any catastrophes, I'm supposed to make an appearance at the opening of a new Club Banana Outlet store in Denver with Monique; it's part of their opening day celebrations," Kim said, the excitement evident in her voice, "requested personally by Coco Banana _himself!"_

"That's awesome, Kim!" he exulted, a broad grin crossing his face. "Anybody else famous gonna be there?"

"Well, you are," Kim said with a smile. "It took some sweet talking on mine and Monique's part, but we finally convinced Coco that you're as much a part of Team Possible as I am."

"Coolio!" he said, a huge smile crossing his features. "What time do I have to be there?"

"Our appearance is at seven o'clock," Kim replied, handing him a piece of paper with the itinerary on it. "Mom's going to have an early supper for us at our house before we leave—she's going too, so she took the day off."

"Mission gear?" he asked between bites.

"Yep," she affirmed, "since my gear is CB-designed, it's good publicity for the chain." While technically Kim's purple pullover and black boot cut slacks were designed by the fashion Mafiosi, the Fashionistas, it was Monique that managed to make the drawing (that Rufus scratched out from memory onto a piece of paper) a reality, giving her all the credit—and, by association, Club Banana.

Ron nodded, sampling his roast beef. "Hey, anything new on the Drakken front?" he asked, the conversation swinging back towards business.

"Nothing so far," Kim sighed, still poking at her mixed veggies, "but both Wade and Dr. Director assure me they're still working at it and will let us know as soon as they come up with something."

"This is starting to sound like _TV Trash Heap,"_ he lamented between mouthfuls of mashed potato, "nothing but reruns."

"Well, I hope somebody turns the channel soon; I'm going stir-crazy waiting."

* * *

Kim wasn't the only one that was starting to get anxious. In the depths of the Grand Canyon, Professor Dementor was pacing the floor of the lair he and Doctor Drakken occupied, patience certainly _not_ a virtue bestowed on the Teutonic terror. Drakken, on the other hand, had obviously mastered the art of waiting, as his calm demeanor and relaxed posture demonstrated. This, of course, served to irritate Dementor even further.

"Please, Professor, have a seat," Drakken said softly as Dementor paced by for what seemed like the thousandth time, "your incessant pacing will serve no other purpose than to wear a hole in the floor."

"I'm tired of waiting!" Dementor exploded, rounding on his "colleague." "Ever since we've joined our forces, we've done nothing but wait and research—the research is done; now we must _act!"_

"Ah, but we are!" Drakken exclaimed haughtily. "No doubt by now Kimberly Anne will have spoken with my former colleague and discovered my plan to rid myself of her constant meddling. As such, she will be expecting me to strike… soon."

Dementor began to see where Drakken was going with his monologue, so he ventured a guess. "So by waiting, you hope to catch her when she finally drops her guard?"

"Precisely," Drakken confirmed, nodding. "Either that, or the constant looking over her shoulder for the non-existent threat may cause her enough mental anguish that she'll wish for nothing more than a quiet life with her buffoon… effectively removing her from the equation."

"I highly doubt the second option would ever occur," Dementor commented wryly, "however; the first scenario does show promise."

"Indeed," Drakken said. Dropping his feet back to the floor, he turned his chair so he was facing the computer on the desk and opened up a web browser, scanning the national and international news sites for any events that may have been of interest to his cause. Almost immediately he came across the Lowerton incident, which certainly piqued his interest. "It appears we aren't the only ones that may have a vendetta against Miss Possible," he muttered.

Dementor pored over Drakken's shoulder at the article he was reading and stroked his chin thoughtfully as he read it. "This is intriguing," he murmured, more to himself than Drakken. "It's beginning to appear that _Fraulein_ Possible is being forced to 'grow up,' so to speak."

"Agreed," Drakken replied, "however, this does call for accelerating the steps of my plan somewhat." As he spoke, he opened the database that comprised all his information on Team Possible.

"I don't understand?"

"Think of it this way, Professor; in light of recent events, Kim Possible will most likely be taking steps to ensure her safety in the future—thereby hindering the end result of the plan. Therefore, we must act before these countermeasures can be put into effect."

"So when do we strike?" Dementor asked, eager to place their main plan into action.

With a gleeful expression crossing his face, the cerulean psychopath leaned closer to the computer screen, making sure he read it properly before speaking. "Tomorrow night," he growled maniacally.

* * *

"Captain, we need to talk."

Laura McShane looked up from her desk with a start as Lt. Jack Craddock barged into her office, the door slamming shut behind him as he spoke. Closing the file she'd been reading, she folded her hands on the desk and looked up at her top detective. "For the love of God, Jack, can't you ever _knock?"_ she groused, giving him a hard glare before continuing. "I know you don't come in here if you can help it, so obviously you've got something on your mind… let's have it."

"It's the Harding Transportation thing," Craddock began, "ever since those two kids got the hostages out, that whole scene's been eating at me."

"Jack, that thing's gone beyond us, now," McShane sighed, "it's in the hands of Global Justice and the FBI."

"Yeah, but they wouldn't know where to start," the grizzled detective said. "It's like I told you that night; that was some sort of an exercise, so whoever was behind it obviously has some sort of military connection—it helps to explain why all three of the suspects were former soldiers, too."

"So what do you want to do about it?" McShane snapped. "What did I just tell you—_it's out of our hands._ You'd be just as well off to forget about it and concentrate on that mountain of paperwork you still owe me."

"Captain, this is bigger than some contrived report about a wino I dragged out of an alley behind O'Leary's Pub!" Craddock exclaimed, pacing the floor in front of McShane's desk.

McShane couldn't help but feel sympathetic towards the detective as she watched him. Knowing his background as an Army Ranger, she knew he felt strongly about the subject and—given his druthers—would stop at nothing to find out just who would perform such an unthinkable exercise. "Look, Jack, I feel for you—I really do—but, honestly, what can a detective from a two-bit town hope to accomplish?" she said, hoping the headstrong detective would re-think his actions… before he did something one (or both) of them would live to regret.

"You have an in with Global Justice, right?" the grizzled veteran said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, one of the guys from my graduating class at the Academy went on to GJ about ten years ago," McShane replied with a nod, "why do you ask?"

"Can you get me in touch with him?"

"Would you cut to the chase, Jack? What's this all about?"

"I think I have an idea who's behind this shit, and if I can't do anything about it, I'm gonna give the information to somebody who can."

"Why not post the information to the Team Possible website? You know they work quite closely with GJ," McShane commented as if this would have been the obvious solution to anybody.

"Because, _Captain,_ I ain't gonna put something like this in the hands of a bunch of _kids,"_ Craddock growled contemptuously. "It's bad enough you decided to call them in to do something that we're fully trained and qualified for."

"Are you still sore about that?" McShane asked incredulously. "Honestly, Jack, you've gotta get over that one—or have you forgotten about the _Li'l Diablos?"_

Grudgingly, Craddock shook his head. Memories of the Diablo incident were still fairly fresh in his mind, not to mention the havoc that had been wreaked on the entire Tri-City area at the time. He knew as well as anybody else did that if it hadn't been for Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable thwarting the plans of Dr. Drakken and Shego, things could easily have been much different for everybody. "No, Captain, I haven't forgotten," he said flatly, "and I'll give them their dues, but there's still some things that should be left to the professionals."

"Nobody's more professional about their work than Team Possible," McShane said with a note of finality. "Now, unless there's something else you had to say to me, Jack, I suggest you go back out there and start filling out some of that backlogged paperwork you owe me."

"Aye-aye, _Captain,"_ Craddock spat in disgust, storming out of the captain's office—making sure he slammed the door properly on his way out. McShane gazed at the door for some time before returning to the report on her desk with a sigh.

Craddock, meanwhile, strode purposefully straight past his desk and right outside, intent on gathering more information from some of his outside sources. Climbing into his assigned car—an unmarked, late-model Crown Vic—he left the station on a mission.

Fifteen minutes later, the detective was parking his car at a seedy sports bar on the south side of town. As he entered the establishment, he noticed several of the patrons tense up, watching him warily. He knew damn well he was pegged as a cop the second he walked in, but he knew just as well that as long as he kept his badge in his pocket and his gun in his holster, he wouldn't have any trouble. Sidling up to the bar without sparing any of the onlookers a second glance, he waited for the bartender to approach.

It wasn't long before the middle-aged, yet still attractive woman made her way to where Craddock stood. "What can I get you?" she asked, leaning against the bar in such a way that her low-cut tank top brought her greatest assets into the forefront, in hopes of a better tip.

"Actually, ma'am, I'm not here for a drink; I'm here for information," Craddock said, ignoring the bartender's advance. "Don't suppose any of the boys from the Warehouse are around?" he inquired nonchalantly. As he spoke, he pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and peeled a twenty from it, sliding it across the bar to the woman.

She eyed the twenty for a moment before taking it and slipping it into her pocket and turning to look at a table in a back corner. "Right over there… I didn't tell you," she said in a low voice. Craddock followed her gaze to a table in the corner, occupied by four men wearing well-tailored business suits; one of which he recognized as the ringleader of "the Warehouse"—the local term for the Lowerton branch of one of New York's most prominent organized crime families. Considering the bar was owned by the Warehouse as a front, he wasn't surprised.

"Much appreciated, ma'am," the detective said with a nod. Stepping away from the bar, he approached the table indicated by the bartender as if he belonged there. The thug sitting facing Craddock saw him coming and spoke in an undertone to his companions, causing them all to rise and face the veteran cop.

"Detective Craddock; to what do we owe this pleasure?" the first one said, a humorless smile on his face.

"Good to see you too, Carson," Craddock replied, stopping a few steps out of Carson's reach. He appraised the four men surreptitiously, ensuring there were no surprises. He knew each of them would have a pistol in shoulder leather under the jackets they wore—custom-tailored to offset the telltale bulge of a concealed weapon—but he also wanted to make sure nobody was signaling for an ambush.

"You alone?" the man called Carson said, obviously on his guard. At Craddock's nod of acknowledgement, he motioned for his men to take a seat at the table again, grabbing an extra chair for Craddock as he returned to his own seat. Only when they were settled did he speak again. "Whatever you want, I don't know and I don't care," he said simply.

"Obviously it ain't that simple, or else you wouldn't have invited me to sit at your table," Craddock replied, returning the man's hard gaze with one of his own. "I just want some information."

"What do you want information about?"

"I wanna know what the hell went down at Harding the other night—no bullshit, either," Craddock snarled.

"You were there, Detective; why don't _you_ tell _me_ what happened?"

"Carson—" Craddock began, his temper visibly shortening.

"Okay, okay," Carson said, holding his hands up in surrender. He knew full well that if he didn't cooperate with Craddock, he was facing more legal troubles than he wanted to think about… didn't mean he didn't like giving the crotchety detective a hard time, though. "Look, I really don't know a whole lot about what went down over there—all I can tell you for sure is it wasn't my boys that had anything to do with it."

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, but I already figured that one out," Craddock said dryly, "so if you could get along to who you think or heard _might_ have been in on it, it would be greatly appreciated."

Carson breathed deeply, expelling the air from his lungs in a dragged-out sigh before speaking again. "I told you already, I don't have any solid info on it," he began, "but I have heard some whispers… and if they're right, it ain't good."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Well, from what I heard, it looks like the Phoenix Corporation was involved."

Craddock did his best to suppress a laugh. "The Phoenix Corporation?" he repeated incredulously. "Come on, Carson, you and I both know that's an old-wives' tale."

"Hey, you wanted to know what I heard; that's what I heard," Carson replied with a shrug. "Whether they're on Wall Street or not don't make 'em fake, y'know."

"Wall Street be damned," Craddock spat, "I didn't come here for fairy tales; I came here for _facts!_ Now either tell me what you do know, or else—"

"Or else _what,_ Detective; gonna raid my businesses and make life harder for my employees, trying to make an honest living?"

"I just might do that," Craddock replied, his eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to Carson, "or I might bring you in on charges of failing to cooperate with a police investigation, obstruction of justice… I can go on if you like."

Carson stared back at the detective for a long time, flexing his fists and grinding his teeth in a slow burn of rage. "Look, I'm telling you the God's honest truth, Craddock; word on the street is Phoenix had contracted Harding to do a few jobs for them, Harding wasn't performing up to standard, so Phoenix sent in some 'negotiators' to rectify the situation."

For some time Craddock said nothing, merely sizing up the man across the table from him. Finally deciding that—at least as far as Carson was concerned—he was being told the truth, he slowly rose from the table. "Okay, Carson, I'll take your word for it," he said once he'd risen to his full height, "but if I find out you've fed me a line, so help me I'll hunt you down and bring you up on everything I can pin on you."

"Always a pleasure doing business with you, Detective Craddock," Carson replied smoothly, indicating his wish to bring their meeting to a close. Craddock spun on his heel and exited the bar as fast as he could without drawing undue attention to himself, Carson doing his level best to bore holes in the back of the detective's skull with his stare.

It wasn't until Jack Craddock was back on the road before he allowed himself to relax. Lighting a cigarette, he played back his conversation with Carson in his mind as he drove. He was having a hard time believing that the enigmatic—and fictitious, as far as Craddock was concerned—Phoenix Corporation would have anything to do with the Harding fiasco, but Carson seemed convinced. Expelling a deep breath from his lungs, the former Army Ranger decided it was time to consult other resources… even if those other resources weren't exactly tops on his list.

* * *

Peregrine was getting restless. Ever since she'd brought back her intelligence report on Kim Possible, she'd been left to languish about the compound, waiting for her next assignment. Of course, she did find ways to make use of her time, between target practice and online research of her prey, but she was eager to get to the assignment she knew would be forthcoming.

It was the _waiting_ that got to her, more than anything. Ever since she'd signed up with the covert Phoenix Corporation, the vast majority of her time was spent waiting for the next assignment to come around. When she'd first been approached by members of the organization six months previous, they'd promised her ample opportunities to use her skills—both in combat and information gathering. Up to now, however, the most she'd done was prove she could hack a corporate security system without being traced. She was itching for action, and if none came her way, she would just have to find some on her own.

As she contemplated, she started re-reading articles on her role model—the comet-endowed villainess, Shego. Her reason for taking up a life of crime, Peregrine did everything she could to mimic the emerald-hued villainess; from earning a black belt in several martial arts disciplines to becoming an expert cat burglar and data hacker. She even dressed somewhat like the infamous sidekick to Dr. Drakken; her usual ensemble a one-piece, black leather motorcycle suit with a cut and style similar to Shego's harlequin-style suit, but without the green paneling (admiration is one thing, but a girl has to have _some_ individuality, after all).

Of course, a direct result of her admiration of Shego was her animosity towards Kim Possible. She had just as much information gathered about the globe-trotting, world-saving cheerleader and her sidekick/best friend/boyfriend, but it was more in an attempt to devise the best method to eliminate the perennial thorn in crime's side. On several occasions the teen heroes had thwarted some of the world's greatest super-villains in their attempts at global conquest… each one making the upstart young criminal loathe them more than the last. Just once, she would like to see the members of Team Possible end up with egg on their collective face… if it were by her own hand, so much the better; so long as it was _soon._

With an exasperated sigh, Peregrine leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up on the desk, ignoring the file she'd started reading moments before. She'd read it a million times already and knew it frontwards and backwards, only reading it to try and take her mind off the unanswered questions she had about her employers. She knew the Phoenix Corporation was merely a front… but for _what?_ The few jobs she'd done since her inception into the corporation didn't seem to follow any sort of pattern, nor did they seem to serve any purpose—the fiasco with Harding Transportation seemed the most senseless of them all—but any time she would ask Hawk about his motives, she would get a non-committal response like _you'll see in due time, Peregrine_ or _patience is a virtue, my dear._ Quite frankly, she was sick of it.

She'd been sitting like that for some time when the telephone on her desk rang. Reaching over to it, she pressed the speakerphone button and answered with an abrupt "Yeah?"

"Peregrine; Hawk here," the voice on the other end of the line said, "I have a job for you."

"About damn time, too," the upstart criminal retorted, removing her feet from the desk and sitting up. "What is it?"

"I've just been informed that Miss Possible will be making a public appearance tomorrow evening, likely alone. Your assignment is to either capture and bring her here… or neutralize her."

Peregrine's mouth formed an almost predatory smile. "Fuckin' eh," she muttered, then spoke loud enough to be heard over the speaker, "it's about time; just tell me when and where."

"Tomorrow evening," Hawk's voice stated, "Possible and her sidekick will be making a very public appearance at a clothing outlet's grand opening in Denver. I've acquired her itinerary from one of the members of the security detail for the event. I've forwarded all the pertinent information to you—maps, times, security locations and possible infiltration points; all you have to do is make it happen."

"That won't be a problem," she said confidently, "I'll go prep my gear and head for Denver; the sooner I scope the place out, the better."

"Very well then, I'll leave you to it. Just keep this one thing in mind," Hawk's voice took on a menacing tone as he continued, "failure is an option you would be wise to omit."

"Don't worry," the fledgling villainess said, "that little bitch is as good as ours."

"Excellent," the enigmatic leader of the Phoenix Corporation said, "good hunting, Peregrine." With that, he disconnected the call, leaving his operative to her thoughts. Peregrine took a long, cleansing breath then stood from her desk and set out to execute the task at hand—the predatory grin never leaving her face.

* * *

"Man, that was a lot tougher than I expected it to be," Ron remarked as he and Kim walked down the hallway toward Kate's quarters. The former villainess had invited them to stop by after their training session, if for no other reason than to break up the monotony of sitting around her "home" day in and day out.

"Yeah, but at least it's only for a week," Kim reasoned, "then we can go back to having a normal summer."

"And not a minute too soon," he added, "Middleton Days is coming up!"

Kim couldn't resist teasing her boyfriend a little as she rang the bell at Kate's door. "Yeah, and I want to make sure I use that dress right this time," she murmured huskily, winking at him over her shoulder and effectively reducing him to a puddle of goo on the floor.

Kate chose that particular moment to open the door, immediately suppressing the urge to laugh at the site that met her eyes. Kim was still gazing coyly at Ron, and Ron… well, Ron was in another world entirely, his eyes glazed over and jaw slacked. Smacking Kim on the shoulder, the mint-skinned woman shifted her eyes to Ron as she spoke. "What did you do to him?"

Kim turned to her friend with a start. "Oh, hey Kate," she said with a slight blush accompanied with a giggle, "I just gave him something to look forward to."

"Well, you sure did a number on him, Kimmie," Kate replied with a bemused smirk. "Snap him out of it before he starts drooling all over himself."

Ron came out of his daze as Kate spoke, giving his head a shake to clear any residual images that may have remained before saying anything, the faint hint of a blush on his cheeks. "I really wish you wouldn't do that to me, KP," he whined, "I mean, how am I supposed to concentrate on walking and talking when you plant _that_ idea into my head?"

"Haven't mastered multitasking yet, Ron?" Kate jibed as she ushered the two teens into her abode. Ron shot the former villainess a look and was about to respond with a barb of his own when Kim interjected on her boyfriend's behalf.

"It's not his fault, Kate," she said, flopping onto the couch with Ron beside her, "I just did something to him no man can resist."

"Do I want to know?"

"Let's just say the years I've spent cheerleading and practicing kung-fu have given me a figure that small black pieces of material work extremely well on," the redhead replied with a Cheshire cat grin.

"Oh, you mean last year with the Moodulators?"

"You remember that, huh?"

"All too well," Kate said with a shudder. "It's obvious I wasn't in my right mind… chasing a blue-skinned megalomaniac that's almost twenty years older than me? At least you had it right," she added, waving her hand in their general direction for emphasis.

"Took me almost six months to realize it, but yeah, I did," Kim said, nuzzling Ron's shoulder as she spoke.

"So," Kate said rather loudly, cutting the moment short, "what else is new with you guys?"

For the next hour the two teens sat with Kate and talked about whatever subject they came to. Most of the time was spent covering mundane subjects like the weather, sports (turned out both Kate and Ron were faithful Denver Broncos fans) and fashion (a discussion Ron stayed well away from). It was only then Kim revealed her plans to appear at the Club Banana opening in Denver to the ebony-haired vixen, expecting her to either gush with excitement or pout with jealousy.

When all she got was a strange look, however, she didn't quite understand. "Kate, what's wrong?" she asked.

"You're doing a public appearance tomorrow?" Kate repeated with obvious concern on her face.

"Yeah, I do them all the time; what's the big deal?"

"The big deal, _Princess,"_ she said, emphasizing the last word snidely, "is there's at least two deranged psychopaths out there looking to turn you into worm feed! You doing this appearance will be a prime opportunity for them to do just that!"

"Kate, don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit?" Kim asked, locking her own green eyes with her friend's. "Wade's coordinating with the firm that's in charge of security and Dr. Director's sending in a unit to sweep the area before I get there."

"I still don't like it," Kate muttered sullenly, resigned to the fact Kim wasn't going to listen to her reasoning, "especially if it's only GJ that's babysitting. Call me a cynic, but I don't exactly trust them fully."

"What if we told you that you're on the security detail?" Kim said with a wink.

"Don't shit me, Kim," Kate snapped, expecting Kim's remark to be nothing more than a feeble attempt at a joke, "there's no way GJ's going to let me be on one of their security details."

"They will if it's a specific request from me," the redhead replied, the smile she wore broadening. "Once I convinced Dr. Director this was a way for you to prove your intentions, she was all for it."

"You mean you're serious?" the raven-haired vixen said, her eyes widening in disbelief. At Kim's nod, she started laughing and shaking her head.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked.

"As conceited as it sounds, it turns out your girlfriend's _anything is possible for a Possible_ motto is pretty bang-on," Kate said between chuckles. "If she could convince the head of a multi-national law-enforcement agency to let a wanted—not to mention _convicted—_criminal be a part of a security detail, then there ain't much she can't do."

"That's my KP," the tow-headed young man said proudly, squeezing Kim's shoulders as he spoke.

"Speaking of which," Kate said, steering the conversation back to the news dropped on her, "when was I going to find out about this?"

Almost on cue, the telephone on her end table started ringing. Kim looked at it with a smirk before turning her gaze to her friend. "Right about now," she said, rising to her feet. Ron met her gaze and nodded, rising to stand beside her and take her hand in his. "We're gonna take off, Kate; we'll talk to you tomorrow when we meet up to go to Denver."

"Sure thing; see ya then," Kate replied before picking up the telephone's receiver.

* * *

_A/N: I know it's been a long time coming, but at long last, here's Chapter Seven for your reading and reviewing pleasure! It took me quite awhile to decide how and where I wanted to proceed with this after posting the last chapter, but I've finally come up with this and am fairly pleased with it. I was tempted to keep going with this chapter, but decided to stop here before it grew to the size of the rest of the story combined._

_Thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter; namely CajunBear73, Niquest, shana elmsford and The Samurai Crunchbird. Keep those reviews comin', and I'll keep a-writin'!_

_Until next time,  
Deuce_


	9. Chapter Eight

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:** The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental.  


* * *

_

_A/N: Well, here we are with Chapter Eight! This one came out fairly easily, even if it has been a fair while since Chapter Seven saw the light of day. Thanks to CajunBear73, Samurai Crunchbird, shana elmsford and firemaster101 for reviewing on the last chapter._

_Not much else to say here except: enjoy!  


* * *

__**CHAPTER EIGHT**_

Wade was glad he was well-versed in the skill of multitasking. Not only was he trying to coordinate a security detail for Kim's photo-op in Denver (which was the easy part), he was also still looking for leads on both Drakken and Dementor, as well as the elusive newcomer Peregrine… all with no results. Heaving a dejected sigh, the teenage tech guru leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face, reviewing what he'd done so far in his search. _It doesn't make sense,_ he thought, _there should be some trace of them, but I can't find anything._

His train of thought was momentarily disrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Grabbing his hands-free unit, he took a quick look at the display as he positioned the headset to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Wade, this is Agent Janis Mitchell with the Global Justice Intelligence department," the caller said in a pleasant voice, "how are you this afternoon?"

"I've had better days," Wade replied with a sigh. Through Team Possible's interaction with Global Justice over the past couple of years, the young genius had built a rapport with their Intel department and vice-versa, making telephone and online communications a regular occurrence for him. "Failure's never been a part of my vocabulary before, but it's starting to look like it just might happen."

"Well, here's something that just might make you reconsider that," Mitchell said with a lilt in her voice. "We've had a bit of a breakthrough in the Drakken/Dementor situation."

It was all Wade could do not to let loose a celebratory exclamation at the news. As it was, the excitement was evident in his voice when he spoke. "Please tell me it's a solid lead."

"Well, it's not a slam-dunk, but it's definitely a layup," Mitchell began, re-reading the details she'd been given as she passed them along. "A Tell-US customer in Supai, Arizona put in a service call last week concerning their Internet connection; apparently the speed and reliability of their service has dropped off in the last couple of weeks."

"That's not unusual," Wade said, his hope fading, "old lines aren't meant to carry data and tend to deteriorate over time; even Kim's parents had to get new lines run about three months ago."

"You're right, as usual, but here's where it gets interesting," Mitchell continued, "Tell-US sent a lineman to the customer's home two days ago and he ran a full inspection of their hardware from the Ethernet cable in the back of the PC all the way to the junction box—which, incidentally, is only a half-mile from the house."

"And…?"

"All the lines came out perfect," the agent replied, "the line from the pole to the house was run new when the customer bought the house and Tell-US upgraded all the lines and the junction box two years ago… it ended up they couldn't find a problem anywhere."

"Customer's computer…?"

"Brand-new Macintosh system, thing worked like a charm. The tech played with it for a bit to see if he could find a problem, but nothing was coming through as obvious to him."

"Still doesn't mean anything, really," Wade said, his mind still trying to assemble a possible list of clues. "Customer's internet service suddenly gets slow is suspicious, but I don't see what it has to do with us."

"What if I told you that Drakken and Dementor were the reason for a customer to have slow connection speeds?"

Wade couldn't help it; he laughed. "Janis, I know Drakken's had some hare-brained schemes before, but sucking up one customer's internet bandwidth hardly seems like his MO."

"Never heard of pirating cable or stealing satellite signals?" Mitchell challenged, causing Wade's brain to shift gears as she continued. "After he got back to the office, the tech pulled up the customer's internet usage stats; what he found was, shall we say, interesting?"

As if to punctuate the agent's final statement, Wade received an email from her, which he promptly opened. It was a forwarded message sent to her by the Tell-US agent from Arizona with a screenshot of the internet usage stats he'd researched, along with more detailed data below. "I just got your email; I'm looking at it now," he said, explaining his silence in advance to Mitchell.

"When you get through it, tell me what you think and we'll see if your theory's anything like mine," she said before humming a tune softly.

"Well, let's see," the young tech guru muttered, as much to himself as to his GJ colleague, "lots of browsing activity to CNN-dot-com… instant messaging traffic… Google searches… music downloads… I'm not seeing anything out of the ordinary here, Janis."

"Dig a little deeper," the agent suggested, "start with some of the CNN stuff."

Wade did as instructed and started to pore through the details of the pages opened on the national news network's site. At first it looked as if all the browser was doing was reading headlines, but he soon began to notice a pattern. "Most of these are stories about Kim or have Kim involved in them somewhere," he muttered, moving on to other pages. Both Mitchell and Wade lapsed into silence as the latter continued to examine the traffic charts, occasionally letting a hum of interest escape his pursed lips.

He'd been at it for about two more minutes when a wave of inspiration hit him. Scrolling back up to the top of the message, he began examining the linear graph of the customer's bandwidth usage, starting from the day their service was activated up to the date of the technician's call the week before. For the most part, the graph was consistent with a typical family of four's internet usage, however at a point three weeks previous it spiked considerably. "Did the customer buy a second computer and add it to the connection?" he asked, wanting to eliminate all possibilities before drawing conclusions.

"Nope; customer only has the one Mac. Granted they do a lot of downloading—they've probably got about ten gigs of MP3's on it—but it still shouldn't be eating bandwidth like that," Mitchell replied.

"Neighbors aren't stealing connections?"

Wade could hear Mitchell clapping in the background as she spoke. "Give the man a cookie and move to the head of the class!" she exclaimed with a chuckle. "When the tech saw this stuff and realized their activity wasn't jiving with what this told him, he got confused. He couldn't find anything anywhere between the junction and the customer's demarc that looked suspicious—heck, he couldn't find any problems from the computer on!"

"I still don't get how you're connecting this with Drakken," Wade said, scratching his head. "I mean, okay, a lot of this traffic is pretty Kim-centric, but she _is_ a world-famous figure, after all… could it just be somebody stealing some bandwidth so they don't have to fork out forty bucks a month?"

"Maybe," Mitchell conceded, "but consider this: we have an undercover agent placed at _The Bermuda Triangle_ to keep tabs on Big Daddy Brotherson and the patrons of his club. While he was there, he decided to have a one-on-one with the little big man."

"I get a feeling this is going somewhere," Wade deadpanned, but waited for his counterpart to continue.

"Patience, young grasshopper," Mitchell chided, "I'm getting there. Our agent managed to secure a meeting with Brotherson yesterday and was able to get a _very_ juicy tidbit out of him… Drakken and Dementor have holed up in the Grand Canyon."

Wade's eyes went wide as saucers as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for him. "Supai is right on the edge of the Grand Canyon, isn't it?"

"Practically right on its doorstep," Mitchell confirmed. "See where I'm going with this now?"

"Oh, most definitely," Wade said, his hands flying over his keyboard once again. "Think you could do me a favor, Janis?"

"Ask, and ye shall receive."

"Put somebody on surveillance in the area," Wade said, "but just make sure they keep quiet. If Drakken and Dementor move, follow them and let me know—if there's one bust in her life Kim deserves to make, this is it."

"Way ahead of you, Wade," Mitchell replied, "we've already got a crew monitoring the canyon and surrounding area… but there's a problem."

"Let me guess; the canyon's so blasted big you can't promise you'll catch them if they're on the move," Wade ventured, disappointment returning to his voice. "Thanks anyway, Janis; keep me posted."

"Anytime, Wade," the GJ agent replied, "just do the same for us."

"You got it."

* * *

As usual, Anne Possible's eyes popped open promptly at six-fifteen, as if on a timer. Stretching her arms above her head, she let loose a most unladylike yawn—something she only did if she knew she was alone, as she did this particular morning. Her husband had informed her the evening before that one of his projects was set for a test launch at six AM, requiring his presence at the Space Center early; on the upside of that was it would have him home in plenty of time for their trip to Denver that evening.

Slipping out from under the covers, Anne prepared to do her morning yoga exercises when the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door caught her eye, giving her pause. While she was far from a vain woman, the world-renowned neurosurgeon did take pride in the fact that, as a forty-five year old mother of three, she still had a body that women half her age would kill for.

For just a moment, the Possible matriarch stood in front of the mirror and examined her naked form (thanks to some "marital activities" the evening before, her usual fleece pajamas were laying in a pile at the foot of the bed). Long, lithe legs led to a well-shaped posterior, narrow waist and flat stomach. _Thank God the twins came naturally,_ she thought, running her hand across where a Caesarian scar would have been on her lower abdomen, just below the bikini line.

Her eyes continued their trek up, pausing briefly at her chest. When James had first met her some twenty-five years ago, she was built more like her daughter in the upper abdomen… or, more bluntly, she had the chest of a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl. She'd toyed with the idea of "enhancements" before they'd gotten married, but James had talked her out of it, saying he loved her just the way she was. Now, three children later, she was glad she hadn't; while time and gravity had certainly taken their toll, at the same time she saw herself as more proportionate… and one-hundred percent natural; something she could be proud of. Besides, James seemed to like them, and she sure wasn't going to be showing them off to anybody else, medical reasons notwithstanding.

Blushing slightly in spite of herself, Anne shook her head lightly and proceeded to go through her morning yoga routine. Since she would be heading directly to the shower following her exercises, she didn't bother putting her pajamas back on—that, and there was something just _slightly_ daring about working out in the nude, even if it was in one's own bedroom with the blinds drawn and the door locked; the last thought making her giggle slightly. _How naughty is it if you won't get caught?_

Roughly a half-hour later, a freshly showered and fully-dressed Anne made her way downstairs in search of a cup of coffee before diving headlong into her second passion—raising and caring for her family. So intent was she on her mission that she almost failed to notice her eldest child sitting in the breakfast nook; in fact, she only realized somebody was there when she noticed the coffeemaker held a fresh pot—minus one cup. Turning to the nook, she saw Kim sitting there with a half-drunk cup of coffee in her hands and a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were deep in thought.

"Well, good morning, Kimmie," she said, grabbing a mug for herself from the cupboard and filling it with the dark brew, "you're up early."

"Hey Mom," Kim replied listlessly, taking a sip from her mug, "I've been up since before Dad left—he said he'd be home around two, by the way."

Thoughts of laundry and cleaning flew out the window as Anne took a seat across from her daughter. "What's wrong, honey? You've never had trouble sleeping," she said, concern etched across her face. She knew that Kim had a habit of going for an early morning jog before breakfast, but as the younger redhead was still in her pajamas, she knew that wasn't the case this morning.

"It's this whole sitch with GJ that's going on," Kim sighed. "I don't quite know what to think of it anymore."

Tearing into a blueberry-bran muffin she'd plucked from a plate in the middle of the table, Anne cast a quizzical glance at Kim. "Care to elaborate on that?"

Rather than giving her mother a verbal response, Kim picked up a plastic card that was lying on the table and passed it over. Anne had noticed it when she first sat down, but thought it was Kim's driver's license. When she took a closer look at it, however, she realized that she was more than slightly mistaken.

"_United States of America; Global Justice Concealed Weapon Permit?"_ she read aloud, her eyes widening as she studied the rest of the card. On it was Kim's picture, along with her full name and birth date, height, weight and hair and eye colors. At the bottom was the signature of Dr. Elizabeth Director, chief operations officer of Global Justice. "Kim, what exactly is this?"

"I've been asking myself that same question ever since Dr. Director issued it yesterday afternoon," Kim said. "Is it a hint of what I'm becoming, or is it part of who I already am?"

"You only started that program with Global Justice yesterday; how could they have issued this so quickly?" the elder redhead asked. "Isn't there a whole bureaucratic process to it?"

"Normally, but Dr. Director already has both mine and Ron's psych profiles and our security clearance is high enough that all we needed was a signed affidavit from her to have that issued," Kim said, motioning to the card her mother still held. "We also had to be issued federal-level permits; mostly because GJ falls under Federal jurisdiction, but also because Colorado state law won't issue a permit to anyone under twenty-one, regardless of past achievements."

"That explains a lot," Kim's mother mused, still studying the card in her hands.

"Yeah, but it doesn't leave me any less confused," Kim groused, running her hands through her hair. "I mean… is this really a good idea?"

Anne was silent for some time as she studied both the card in her hands and her daughter across the table, pondering how best to answer the question. It was a well-documented fact that, while as modest as they came, Kim was about as far from an ordinary teenaged girl as anybody could come. At the same time, however, she had to consider that despite all that, Kim _was_ an ordinary teenager with all the same questions and doubts in her mind as any other eighteen-year-old girl.

Finally she spoke, although it was a tentative voice that escaped her lips. "Kim… the fact that you're asking yourself that already shows that maturity isn't an issue," she began, "and as a parent, I have to question the decision myself."

"I know, I should have talked to you before I went through with it," Kim began, but her mother held up a hand to stop her.

"Perhaps, but that's neither here nor there," she said, taking a sip of coffee before continuing. "It's done now, and part of me is glad you _didn't_ talk to me first."

It was Kim's turn to look perplexed. "I don't understand," she said.

Her mother reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it gently as she spoke. "Kimmie, I'm your mother; if you came home and told me you were taking a firearms course and were going to be bringing weapons into my house, I would have probably gone off on you worse than my mother went off on me when she found out I'd slept with your father before we were married."

"_Mom!"_ Kim exclaimed, her face contorted in what could only be described as disgust. "So didn't need to know that!"

"Oh, come on, Kim," Anne chided, "you're old enough to realize that your father and I are human, after all."

"I know, I know," Kim retorted, resting her head in her hands, elbows on the table, "but I still try not to think about it."

"Anyway," the elder redhead said, getting back to the topic at hand, "what I'm getting at is this; now that we're at a point where I can't exactly say much—and having a chance to talk to you about this like civilized adults—I can look at the situation a little more objectively and hopefully help you sort this out.

"Like I said already; you're my daughter, and like any mother, I'm going to worry about you—hell, I've worried about both you and Ron ever since you started the whole mission thing—but at the same time, I know that what you're doing is a great and wonderful thing, so rather than smother you and try to protect you from the big bad world out there, your father and I decided that we would stand behind you and support you.

"At first it wasn't so bad," Anne continued, a smile gracing her face. "Sure, you'd come home with the odd scrape and bruise, but all in all you've done quite well for yourself over the years and made quite a name for yourself in the meantime. As the years went on, however, the missions you would take on started getting more dangerous; there was more at stake every time.

"Your father and I discussed putting a stop to it, but in the end we decided that, as pig-headed as you can be—don't look at me like that, Kim; you know I'm right—you would up and do it anyway, regardless of how many times we grounded you or forbade you to do it. I'd thought long and hard about that decision for a long time… right up till your Junior Prom. Only then, after you and Ron had managed to take down Drew and Shego, did I stop doubting our decision."

"I'm so sorry, Mom," Kim said, tears forming in her eyes, "I never meant to cause you or Dad any pain."

"Shush, Kim," Anne said, leaving her seat to slide in beside Kim, "you didn't cause us any pain. Yes, we worry about you, but we know you're doing what you know in your heart is right… helping people is your life, whether you meant it to be or not." Putting her arm around her daughter's shoulders, she held her close, comforting her in the way only a mother can. "Your Dad and I are so proud of you, Kimmie—you and Ron both. You've done so much for so many, and ask for nothing in return. How could a parent not be proud of a son or daughter like you two?"

Kim smiled softly as she rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "Thanks for the pep talk," she said, "but that still doesn't answer my question."

Anne chuckled lightly as she squeezed her daughter a little closer to her. "Yeah, I kinda went off on a tangent there," she said, "but what I was getting at is this: you and Ron are both legally adults, now; that right there is enough justification for some of the more ruthless people in the world."

"Yeah, I've heard all that before," Kim said dryly. "Monique, Kate _and_ Dr. Director all pointed that out when this whole thing started."

"It is a valid point," Anne said, nodding, "and something you should keep in mind—which, obviously you have to a certain extent, if you're going through with this."

Kim nodded again, picking up the permit from the table and flipping it idly in her hands. "That was our reasoning for going through with it," she said, "but I still can't shake the doubts that are in the back of my mind."

"Just goes to show you're human," Anne said with a smile. Rising from the table, she motioned for Kim to follow her, engulfing the younger redhead in a massive hug as soon as she was on her feet.

"Mom…" Kim grunted, "… can't… breathe…"

"Sorry," Anne said sheepishly, releasing her grasp on Kim. "Just remember what I said; no matter what, your father and I love you and are proud of you. And just between you and me," she added with a sly wink, "I think you made the right choice."

Kim returned the smile and gave her mother a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Mom," she said, "that means a lot to me."

"That's what I'm here for, Kimmie," Anne replied. "Now, why don't you run along upstairs and get cleaned up? Ron will probably be here for breakfast soon, after all."

Kim cast a quick glance at the clock on the microwave and realized her mother was right, so she dashed out of the kitchen to head upstairs to shower and get dressed. It had become a bit of a tradition over the years—especially during summer vacation—for Ron to have breakfast with the Possibles, whether he'd had breakfast with his own family already or not.

Sure enough, Anne had no sooner thrown some bacon into a frying pan when Ron came strolling through the kitchen door. "Hola, Mrs. Dr. P!" he said brightly. Rufus waved from his perch on Ron's shoulder, hopping onto the counter as he passed.

"Good morning, Ron," she replied, "Kim just went upstairs for a shower; she should be down soon."

"Oh, okay," the towheaded young man said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He sat in silence as he watched his girlfriend's mother place the fried bacon on a plate with paper towel to soak up the extra grease, then crack two eggs into the pan, using the fat left behind from the bacon in lieu of butter.

"Can I ask you something, Ron?" the elder redhead said, breaking the silence as she watched the eggs cook in the pan.

"Okay," Ron replied tentatively, unsure of what to expect.

"How's Kim been in the last couple of days?"

"Okay, as far as I could tell," Ron said, puzzled by the question. "Why, is she sick?"

"No, no; she's fine," Anne said, placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him, "it's just… she was already up when I got up this morning."

"I thought she usually went for a jog in the morning?"

"Normally, but this morning she was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and still in her pajamas," she replied, passing Rufus a cooled strip of bacon to munch on. "I asked her what was wrong, and she told me she still had some doubts about the course you're doing with Global Justice."

Ron nodded, shoveling the entire yolk of one of his eggs into his mouth. "Yeah, I kinda figured that would still be on her mind," he said once he'd swallowed. "She hasn't said anything to me about it since it first happened, but I thought it was probably still eating at her."

"Did you ever try to talk to her about it?"

"Nah, when Kim gets like that I've learned it's better to let her come to me than the other way around—poking at her can be hazardous to my health."

Anne couldn't help but chuckle at his statement. "Yeah, I think the only reason I can is because I have the 'Mom' safety… I was the same way when James and I started dating. My mother could poke and prod at me all she wanted, but God help him if James tried."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Ron said, polishing off the last of his bacon before rinsing his plate off and putting it in the dishwasher.

"How are you dealing with all this?" she asked, genuine concern etched on her face. "You've been so strong for Kimmie through the whole debacle; do you need to talk to somebody about it?"

"I'm okay, Mrs. Dr. P," he said. His eyes, however, betrayed him.

"Surely this has affected you somehow," she prodded gently.

Ron sighed, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. "Okay, you're right," he admitted, "it's gotten to me a little bit. As soon as I think about what could've happened to Kim, though…" He trailed off, tears threatening to brim over.

"It's okay, Ron," Anne whispered, reaching across to take his hand, "take your time."

Ron took a couple of deep breaths and regained his composure. "Like I was saying," he continued when he could trust himself, "when I think about what could've happened, it scares me—more than monkeys and normal-sized cockroaches combined."

"I can sympathize with that," Anne said, "but that doesn't tell me how you're dealing with it."

"Kim," he replied simply. "Just knowing what she needs from me keeps my head screwed on straight."

"How do you mean?"

"You know how Kim can be," he said, "she's headstrong, a perfectionist and a bit of a control freak. On the other hand, I tend to be more laid back—we balance each other," he summarized in response to Anne's _is there a point_ gaze.

"So what's your take on it?"

Ron sighed again, as if contemplating his answer. "Kim did what she had to do; just like she always does." Shifting in his seat, he took a few more moments to ponder how best to continue. Anne, for her part, kept quiet, giving him the chance to continue, which he finally did. "The more I think about it, I realized that if it'd been me, I would have done the same thing."

Anne nodded as she took in what he said. "Let me ask you this," she began slowly, "and keep in mind I'm asking you this as someone that loves you as if you were my own son—if you were there—in the room—would you have pulled the trigger?"

"Mrs. Dr. P—"

"Please, Ron, I think the time's come for you to start calling me Anne." _Not quite time for the Mom card just yet._

Ron blinked in surprise at the interruption, but smiled at his girlfriend's mother before continuing. "Okay… Anne," he said, almost hesitantly, "I think I can easily say that if I'd been there… I probably would have killed him."

Anne blinked in surprise at the young man's statement—not to mention the sincerity behind it. "Do you really think that?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, I do," he replied without hesitation. "It took me almost fifteen years to realize what I had in Kim… I don't plan on losing it—or her—anytime soon."

"I know Kim means a lot to you, but do you really think you would have _killed_ him?"

"Kim's everything to me," he replied, "and I would kill for her if it came to that."

"It wouldn't bother you to kill someone?"

"It's not my ideal choice, but if I had to choose between killing someone and losing Kim… I'd do it."

Anne nodded; satisfied Ron wasn't talking out of sheer bravado. She knew how passionate and devoted Ron could be, and often was; she also knew that if asked the same question, her husband would respond in much the same manner as Ron. "I do have one other question," she said, "you told us that Kim took shooting that man rather hard, but the next morning she was fine. What did you say to her to make such a difference?"

"I just put it into perspective for her," he said with a shrug. "Kim's whole problem with the situation came from the reputation guns have."

"I'm not real fond of them either," the neurosurgeon commented, "but I know they do have their uses."

"Exactly," Ron said with a nod. "I think sometimes she forgets that both of us are fully capable of killing a man with our bare hands, never mind some of the gear Wade sets us up with."

Kim's mother couldn't suppress the involuntary shudder that coursed through her body at that thought. While she was fully aware of Kim's martial capabilities, it was an "out of sight, out of mind" kind of knowledge. Regardless, she also couldn't help but chuckle wryly at herself; yet again, she had underestimated the young man that sat across the table from her. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said simply.

"For what?" he asked, nonplussed.

"Underestimating you," she replied, leaning slightly closer to him. "I've known you for a long time—as far as I'm concerned, you're as much a part of my family as my own children—and for a long time, I've seen you in a certain light. Lately, though, I'm starting to see that I was wrong… in the best way possible."

Ron nodded, understanding where she was going with her comments. "I hear what you're getting at, Mrs.—Anne—and it's understandable; for a long time I wasn't much more than a slacking underachiever. Being with Kim, realizing what she means to me; that was the motivation I needed to step up and be the man she always knew was in here," he said, tapping his chest lightly.

"It's about time my 'Potential Boy' knew what he was capable of."

Both Ron and Anne jumped at the unexpected voice; the latter turning to face the direction it had come from. Kim was standing in the doorway leading from the kitchen to the living room in a white T-shirt and blue jeans, her hair still damp and a beaming smile on her face.

"Hey, KP," Ron said, returning her smile as he rose from his seat to embrace her. She welcomed him into her arms, greeting him with a chaste kiss—a sight that never failed to warm the heart of the neurosurgeon still at the kitchen table. "How's my badical girlfriend this morning?"

"Starving," she said, squeezing him a bit before letting go and taking a seat at the table.

"Well, looks like the Ron-man's gonna have to do something about that," he said, going into his kitchen version of "mission-mode." Anne started to get out of her seat to help, but Ron held up his hand. "Not this time, Anne; you made my breakfast, it's time for me to return the favor."

Shrugging, the elder redhead sat back down at the table, once again across from her daughter… who was giving her a quizzical look. "Since when are you on a first-name basis?" she asked.

"Well, I almost told him to call me 'Mom,' but you're not _quite_ married yet," she said with a slightly evil smirk, earning a swat from her progeny.

Ten minutes later, the Possible women were dining on Western-style omelets, toast, bacon and orange juice, served up by the towheaded culinary genius. Sure, it sounded like a fairly ordinary, Midwestern style breakfast, but at the hands of Ron Stoppable, even the most mundane meals were transformed into adventures of the palate. Ron, for his part, just sat back and took pleasure in watching them enjoy their meal. Once they'd finished eating and the dishes were done and put away (again Ron tried to shoo Anne away, but she stood her ground this time), the two teens left the house to start their day in earnest. They hardly made it out the door, however, when a distinct, four-note ringtone was heard from Kim's wrist.

"Go, Wade," she said simply, Ron peering over her shoulder so he could see the screen.

"Hey, guys," the tech guru said, "just got a hit on the site; it's from Detective Craddock of the Lowerton PD."

Ron noticed Kim tense up at the mention of the detective, but she otherwise kept her cool. "What's he want now," she asked with an edge to her voice, "crowd control at a union strike?"

"Nothing like that," Wade replied, "he wants to meet with you about the Harding job. Apparently he has some information that might be pertinent; where the case is out of his hands, he figured giving it to us would be the next step."

"That's a switch," Kim mused, stroking her chin, "when we were first called in, it didn't seem like he was real impressed with us _or_ his captain… seems fishy he'd come to us when he's got a lead after that."

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Wade said, "but it's really him. I called him back at the Lowerton PD and he confirmed he'd sent the message, so it's legit… and before you ask, no, I didn't ask him why the sudden change of heart."

"Well, guess we're headed to Lowerton," Kim said with a shrug. "Where does he want us to meet him?"

"Coffee shop on the corner of Marshland Drive and Fifth Street," the young webmaster said. "I've already uploaded the directions to the Sloth's GPS unit."

"As usual, you rock, Wade," Kim said with a smile, ending the call.

"Looks like our plans for the day are set," Ron mused, returning to his original position beside Kim.

"So much for me taking Princess shopping with me," a new voice said from behind the teens, causing both to whirl around into combat poses.

"Dammit, Kate, you scared me half to death," Kim said, relaxing when she saw the speaker.

"Sorry," the mint-skinned woman said, shrugging sheepishly.

"What're you doing out in public, anyway?" Ron asked with a quirked eyebrow. "I thought GJ wanted to keep you in protective custody?"

"Betty decided she could loosen my chain a little bit and let me go find something to wear for tonight," she replied. "I told her there was no way in hell I would be caught dead wearing one of those disgusting jumpsuits."

"Can't say I blame you," Kim remarked with a smirk. "How long did she turn you loose for?"

"I've gotta report to the security detail's commander at four PM."

"Well, we shouldn't be too long in Lowerton… why don't you come with us?" the redhead suggested. "Who knows; maybe you'll have some added input with what he's got to tell us—considering your past experiences."

"That's one way to put it," the former villainess quipped as she followed Kim and Ron to the Sloth. Ron, being the gentleman he was, promptly tilted the passenger's seat forward and climbed into the back, allowing Kate to ride shotgun with Kim.

Twenty minutes later the bubblegum-pink hatchback was pulling into a parking space at the aforementioned coffee shop. Ron was the first to notice the all-too-obviously unmarked Crown Vic parked near the door of the shop and pointed it out to his two traveling companions as they climbed out of the car, earning a smirk from Kate. She could remember when an unmarked—or "ghost"—car was almost impossible to discern from any of the myriad other cars on the road. More recently, however, with the general public favoring other types of vehicles (anywhere from Smart cars to SUV's), the rear-drive Fords were getting rarer by the day, making the purpose of not marking them seem more for financial reasons than for camouflage.

They made their way into the establishment without further comment and approached the counter to place orders. Kate went first while Kim and Ron gave the dining room a quick once-over to see if they could spot Craddock. Ron found him without much difficulty and pointed him out to Kate while Kim stepped up to the counter to order.

"You've got to be kidding me," Kate muttered, obviously trying not to laugh. As it was, she couldn't resist an amused snort as she turned away from where Detective Craddock was sitting.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked, not quite getting the joke.

"Coffee and donut shop, overly-obvious ghost car and a detective that got fashion tips from _Columbo,"_ Kate remarked, rolling her eyes. "This feels every bit like a cheesy seventies cop show."

"And the years you spent working for Drakken didn't feel like a Saturday morning cartoon?" Kim countered as she returned to them with three disposable coffee cups and a paper bag with three donuts and a muffin in a cardboard tray.

"Got me there," she replied wryly, following the redhead to where Craddock sat waiting.

He rose from his seat to greet them when he saw them coming. "Thanks for coming on such short notice, Miss Possible," he said, shaking hands with the two teens. When his eyes came to rest on Kate, however, he turned wary. "I expected the two of you to come alone."

"Detective Craddock, this is Kate Gogh; interim member of Team Possible," Kim said, motioning to Kate as she spoke. "We asked her to accompany us today because of her expertise in some of the matters at hand that, quite frankly, we don't have."

Craddock gave Kate a quick once-over, making Kim wonder if he would recognize her for who she really was. How couldn't he, really; even though she was wearing a non-descript, jade-green tank top and dark blue jeans, surely the green tinge to her skin would be a giveaway. After several long moments of the two glaring at each other, however, Craddock merely nodded. "Understandable, I guess; never hurts to bring an expert along," he said, motioning to the table. "Shall we get started?"

"Of course," Kim replied, taking the seat across from Craddock at the circular table. Once the four were settled into their seats, she spoke again. "Our webmaster tells us you may have some information regarding the Harding incident from the other night that might be pertinent to our investigation?" she prodded.

"Yeah," Craddock confirmed, shifting a little in his seat. "Ever since this whole thing went down, I knew something was rotten about it. I've seen shit like that before, and it wasn't some two-bit gang or even a typical Mob hit… it was a military exercise."

"Military?" Kate repeated with an eyebrow quirked. "There's no way the military would pull a stunt like that on US soil."

"That's right, Miss Gogh," Craddock confirmed, taking a sip of his coffee, "they wouldn't. I was an Army Ranger for ten years before I became a cop, and not once did we perform any exercises even _remotely_ like that—not on American soil, and _definitely_ not with civilians involved."

"So that set your weirdar off," Kim ventured.

"That's one way to put it, but yeah, it did," Craddock replied with a chuckle. "I kinda took it upon myself, but I took a drive over to one of the seedier parts of town to talk to some of the local gangsters—real _Sopranos-_types, if you catch my drift."

"That wouldn't be the Warehouse crew, would it?" Kate asked.

"Yeah; you know them?"

"I've had a few encounters with them—none of which ended pleasantly… for them," she muttered. Craddock eyed her for a long moment, as if he were trying to reconcile her face with something he may have seen before.

Kim said a silent prayer that the detective would either not recognize Kate as Shego; or at least not cause a scene and try to arrest her if he did recognize her. She kept her cool exterior as she observed both Kate and Craddock as they eyed each other, but tensed up when she saw the recognition in his eyes. Rather than whip out his handcuffs—or worse, his gun—however, he merely leaned closer and spoke in an undertone. "Finally decided to play for the good guys again, huh, Shego?"

Kate leaned equally close, glaring at Craddock. "Shego's done," she growled, "and if you must know, yes, I did."

Craddock merely nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Fair enough," he said with a grin, proceeding to tell the story of his encounter with the Warehouse crew the previous day. When he shared what Carson told him, however, Kate held her hand up to halt the detective.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on," she said, "did you say 'Phoenix Corporation?'"

"Yeah, I know," Craddock chuckled, "sounds like a load of shit, doesn't it?"

"Hardly," Kate retorted dryly. "If anything, it makes sense."

Craddock blinked, unable to believe the former villainess was actually buying into the story he'd been told earlier. "What're you talking about, 'it makes sense?'"

"Just what I said," Kate replied, "it makes sense. I've heard of the Phoenix Corporation before; they're every bit as real as the Hope Diamond and Mount Rushmore."

"Time out," Ron said, forming a "T" shape with his hands, "let's pretend for a minute that I don't know what you're talking about."

"It wouldn't surprise me if you don't," Kate replied, leaning back in her seat. "One thing the Phoenix Corporation prides itself on is its secrecy; I didn't even know who they were until about a year ago."

"So how did you learn about them?" Craddock asked, obviously intrigued.

"Big Daddy Brotherson," the raven-haired vixen stated simply. "Just after Drakken managed to get the info he wanted about the Hephaestus project, I decided to pay him a visit myself—figured if anybody had answers to some of my questions, it'd be him."

Craddock merely stared blankly at Kate, obviously unaware of _The Bermuda Triangle's_ proprietor, but Kim nodded knowingly. "Figures you'd go to him… was that after we had our little tussle in the lounge?"

"Yeah," she laughed, nodding. "It was about an hour after that; Blue-Boy was still whining about something—I usually toned him out for awhile after a scrap—and I figured I may as well make some use of our time there, so I asked for an audience with the Guru of Gossip himself."

"Is it really that simple to get in?"

"Not quite; it was my reputation along with the request that got me in," Kate said with a mix of pride and disgust.

"Okay, back up a sec," Craddock said, waving his hands. "Who exactly is this Brotherson character you're talking about, anyway?"

"He's an American national that holes up in various places around the world and brokers information… usually at the price of a game of _Rock/Paper/Scissors,"_ Kim replied.

"Actually, when I was there, it was _Simon Says,"_ Kate interjected.

Craddock merely rolled his eyes. "Sorry I asked," he muttered.

"Don't let his eccentricities fool you; he's really a very powerful and intelligent man," Kim stated gravely. "He's the one that turned Drakken on to my dad's work, after all."

"Okay, so he's a kook, but he's brilliant… I'm assuming there's a point to this story?"

"Yeah," Kate nodded, her expression darkening, "after the pleasantries, Brotherson told me just what Phoenix's game is—and believe me, it's something I would have been perfectly happy not knowing."

"Care to enlighten us?" Craddock prodded, glaring at the former villainess.

Kate matched the detective's glare, her expression getting even darker. "Turns out the Phoenix Corporation is the world leader in private-sector contraband shipping," she said. "You want it, they can get it at a better price and faster than anybody else out there. Guns, drugs… sex slaves, they do it all."

"Jesus Christ," Craddock muttered. "I've heard whispers about them, but I never believed any of it; figured it was all some urban legend."

"Oh, they're real, alright," Kate said, "and they play for keeps. Considering the business they're in, it's no wonder."

"That would explain why they have ex-military on the payroll, too," the detective mused, rubbing his chin. He turned to Kim with a wry grin as he spoke again. "Looks like it's a good thing I came to you instead of running full-bore to Global Justice."

"How so?" she asked.

"One of Harding's biggest customers is the Warehouse crew," Craddock replied, "and the Dantini clan's never exactly been happy about it. I figured Old Man Dantini might've decided to send a message to the Warehouse crew—and anybody else—that screwing with _Cosa Nostra_ isn't the best idea in the world."

"I thought you said it didn't look like a Mob hit?"

"Not a _typical_ Mob hit," the detective corrected, "but you'd be surprised how easy it is for somebody that's got the dough to hire a bunch of ex-Marines for a show like that. Kinda scary when you think about it."

"Yeah, but if Phoenix is involved, then what we're dealing with makes ex-Marines look like Pixie Scouts," Kate muttered darkly.

"At least this gives us something solid to start with," Kim said as she rose from her seat, the others following suit. Reaching across the table, she shook Craddock's hand. "Thank you for meeting with us, Detective; what you've given us could be the lead we've been hoping for."

"I sure hope so," he replied. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Kim said with a smile.

Craddock watched as the trio left the coffee shop, shaking his head. _Maybe I was wrong about them,_ he thought, draining his coffee.

* * *

Once back in the Sloth, Kate turned to look at both Kim and Ron. "Okay, so we've got a lead; what do we do with it?"

Rather than answer right away, Kim pressed a button on the Sloth's console; less than a second later, Wade's face appeared on the screen mounted in the car's dashboard. "Hey Kim," he said jovially, "what up?"

"I need you to find out anything and everything you can about a black-market organization that calls itself the Phoenix Corporation—names, locations, the works," she said. "Turns out they were the likely culprits of the whole fiasco here the other night."

"I'll get right on it," the tech phenom replied, "anything else?"

"No, that should do it for now," Kim said. "Just keep us posted with whatever you find out."

"You know it," Wade said, signing off.

Kate turned to Kim and quirked an eyebrow. "So that's it?" she asked. "Pass it along to Nerdlinger and wait to hear from him?"

"Pretty much, yep," Kim replied as she steered the car towards Middleton. "He's never failed me yet, and he's a lot more efficient than GJ."

"That part doesn't surprise me," the former villainess remarked, "but the waiting sucks."

"Yeah, I know," Kim said with a nod, "the waiting gets tough sometimes, but at least this way we'll have time to stop at the mall before you have to be back at GJ."

"Good; I need something that's functional and fashionable for tonight," the former villainess said. "It's not like I can wear my old jumpsuit—not that I want to, either."

"You really _are_ done with Shego, aren't you?" Ron asked, leaning forward a bit so he could better see the malachite-hued woman in the passenger's seat.

"You doubted it?" Kate countered, meeting the towheaded teen's gaze.

"No, but you've never actually been this absolute about it before," he replied. "I mean, even when you left Team Go, you still kept the suit… this time you're changing everything."

"I've had an interesting life, Ron," Kate said, impressed at his observation. "For a long time—especially after the comet hit—the only constant in my life was change. My friends started deserting me; we moved from the house I grew up in to Go Tower; my parents died not long after that… you've got a basic idea of the rest of my life from that point on. Keeping the suit was my one constant through it all. Now, though… it's time to turn the page."

"And we're glad for it," Kim said, pulling into the Middleton Mall parking lot, "but right now, we have more pressing matters to address… namely what you're going to wear tonight."

"Club Banana?" Kate guessed.

"Of course," the redhead replied, pulling her employee card from her purse and waving it in front of her companion, "complete with employee discount."

"Well, let's move! Time's a-wastin', y'know!" Kate said, jumping out of the car before Kim even had a chance to shut it off. Neither Kim nor Ron could help but laugh as they climbed out of the car and followed the former villainess into the mall.

* * *

It certainly looked like something out of a Hollywood blockbuster film premiere. Once it had been confirmed that Kim Possible would be appearing at the ribbon-cutting ceremony, the local and national media turned what would normally have been a run-of-the-mill outlet opening—worthy of nothing more than a two-paragraph blurb on page six of the local newspaper—into a gala event that would likely grace the front page of all the nationally-published dailies, complete with spotlights and a roped-off red carpet.

What was unseen, however, was the security presence. Of course, there were the obvious Denver Police officers stationed at various points around the site, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Throughout the crowd, undercover Global Justice agents were milling about and reporting suspicious behavior to their command center via the cliché wrist-mount microphone. Atop several buildings, GJ snipers and spotters were stationed in strategic locations, watching the overall scene; a Denver police helicopter providing additional aerial coverage.

Also watching the scene was a maintenance worker atop the rooftop of Benson Brothers' Dry Cleaning and Laundromat, almost directly across from the new Club Banana; a man in a pair of blue coveralls with _MARTIN REFRIGERATION & VENTILATION_ stenciled on the back and a Colorado Rockies baseball cap pulled low over his eyes was noticed several times by Global Justice spotters. Building maintenance confirmed the man's presence, informing GJ he was a refrigeration technician performing the semi-annual inspection of their HVAC and air-conditioning units. Satisfied with the response, GJ took no more action other than to check on the tech's progress at random intervals.

Backstage, Kim was sitting on a stool and wringing her hands; Ron directly behind her and rubbing her shoulders, trying to settle her nerves. Even Rufus left the buffet table to try and comfort his human's mate—his other human, as he thought of her. Scampering up her pant leg, the garment-challenged rodent nuzzled Kim's arm, just above the cuff of her glove. Looking down, Kim favored Rufus with a smile, scratching under his chin.

"I know you're trying to help, guys—and I really do appreciate it—but I can't shake the feeling something's not right with this sitch," she said, leaning back against Ron's chest.

"It's just nerves, KP," Ron said, wrapping his arms around Kim's shoulders. "It's the same thing as when you gave your speech at graduation; you'll be fine once you get out there."

Kim sighed heavily, putting a hand on Ron's forearm. "I wish that was it, Ron, but it's not," she said darkly. "Something's rotten in Denver… I just don't know _what."_

"That's why I'm here; backup and moral support," Kate said, sidling over to her friends with a water bottle in her hand and sporting her new outfit—a pair of boot-cut blue jeans, a jade-green V-neck shirt and a tan suede jacket. On her feet were brown boots with just enough heel to be fashionable, but not so much to hinder her movements in the event she needed to go into action. For security purposes, a photo ID hung around her neck by a lanyard, identifying her as a Global Justice operative. She carried no weapons, but then again, when one is capable of slinging balls of hot plasma, a nine-millimeter seems rather pointless.

"And we're glad for it," Kim said with a wan smile. It soon faded, though, as her previous mood took over. "I just can't shake the feeling that something's gonna go ferociously wrong tonight." With a sigh, Kim slipped off the stool to stretch her legs and try to shake the sense of foreboding—her _"weirdar,"_ as she called it—that was gnawing at her. It'd been there ever since she and Ron arrived in Denver with their families earlier that evening, and she just couldn't put her finger on what was bothering her… which, of course, bothered her even more. Ron sensed this and slipped his arms around her waist, his hands resting comfortably on her stomach; in response, she laid her own hands on top of his and leaned into his embrace, resting her frame against him.

Despite herself, Kate grinned at the teenagers. "It's funny," she said wryly, "most kids your age are still trying to figure out what love means… and then there's you two."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked indignantly.

"How often do you hear of high school sweethearts getting married these days?" Kate countered, occupying the stool Kim had just vacated. "Almost never; in fact, these days it's a wonder when somebody gets married before they're thirty. Teenagers have never been more confused in their lives than they are in this day and age, yet before me stand two high school graduates that couldn't be _more_ sure about the direction their lives are headed—or who's gonna be beside them throughout that life." After a brief pause to mull over what she'd just said, the former villainess pulled a face. "It's kinda sickening, really."

Kate's statement had the desired effect as both teens started laughing, releasing some of the tension that could be felt in the air, even if only for a moment. "Thanks Kate," Kim said, "I needed that."

"I told you that's why I'm here," Kate replied nonchalantly, running a hand through her hair. "Not my fault I'm good at what I do."

Kim was about to issue a retort when the stage director approached her and Ron. "Sorry for interrupting, Miss Possible, but two minutes till show time," he said, gazing at the clipboard in his hand. "If you and Mr. Stoppable would just follow me, I'll bring you to your places."

"Thank you," she replied, disengaging from Ron's arms, somewhat grudgingly.

"Break a leg, you two," Kate said with a wave.

"I'll try not to take that literally."

* * *

From atop the edifice across from the new Club Banana, the air-conditioning technician heard the announcement come over the public-address system that the ceremony would begin in less than five minutes. Smiling to himself, he made a couple of final adjustments to the unit he'd been working on, then closed its access hatch and screwed it into place. Gathering his tools, he returned them to their place in his tool kit, slung it over his shoulder and left the roof via the stairwell access. This was seen by a Global Justice spotter and reported to the command center. Two minutes later, the same man was seen by another GJ agent as he came out of an alleyway and climbed into a white, late-model Chevy van with the same name stenciled on the sides as was embroidered on his coveralls. Moments later, the van's engine started and it drove away, ostensibly on its way home; also noted by the agent that saw him.

Less than two blocks away, however, the vehicle pulled into a red zone and stopped with the engine idling. Turning his large frame around, the driver opened the partition between the cab and the cargo area and looked into the back of the van. "How's this?" he asked the other occupant.

"Perfect," Peregrine replied with a smirk, her attention focused on a laptop sitting on a table mounted against the side wall of the van. Connected to the laptop was a go-anywhere wireless internet connection and a USB joystick that Peregrine manipulated from time to time, typing commands into the laptop at the same rate. "The connection's crystal-clear and the camera's working flawlessly—you did good, Bart."

"Thanks," the man replied, closing the barrier between the cab and rear of the vehicle before turning back around to keep watch. The street they were parked on was deserted, but he didn't want to take any chances on a wayward Denver PD officer on the beat noticing them and asking what they were doing there. Bart had a cover story prepared and unless the cop decided to search the van, Peregrine would be out of sight, but that didn't mean he was ready to drop his guard.

Meanwhile, in the rear of the van, Peregrine was still focused on the laptop's screen, showing her a live feed image of the stage where Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable would be appearing in mere moments, a set of crosshairs dividing the image into four quadrants. Below the image were telemetry readings—wind speed, distance to target, elevation and a host of others.

"I love technology," she muttered, a predatory smile on her face. Manipulating the joystick again, the mercenary placed the crosshairs on a poster that bore Kim and Ron's picture. Centering them between Kim's eyes, she whispered one single word:

"Bang."

* * *

Kate hadn't wanted to admit it when she was talking to Kim, but something about the night was making her uneasy as well. She didn't know whether it was just Kim's foreboding that was rubbing off on her or if it was her own honed sense of danger that was alarming in the back of her mind, but something felt off. Leaving the stool she sat on, the mint-skinned woman made her way to the opposite edge of the curtains that obscured the backstage area from view and peered around them to the crowd beyond. Seeing nothing offhand, she adjusted the earpiece in her left ear before bringing her right hand up to her mouth. "Wade?"

"Go ahead Kate," Wade Load's voice said in her ear.

"You gotta be my eyes for me here; there's too many people for me to pick one or two people out—especially when one of 'em is only the height of an end table."

"I've scanned every face in the crowd three times, Kate; there's no sign of Drakken _or_ Dementor."

Kate was silent following the tech guru's proclamation, the wheels turning in her mind as she processed what Wade had just said. In her free ear, she could hear Coco Banana about to introduce Kim and Ron to the podium, increasing her sense of urgency.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, please help me welcome Colorado's First Daughter and world hero, Kim Possible!"_

* * *

Peregrine's grin turned into an all-out smile as Kim and Ron made their way to the podium. With practiced movements, she tracked Kim's head with the crosshairs on her display. Only when the redhead stopped moving would she execute her plan.

* * *

In the midst of the throng, two individuals started bulldozing their way through people, earning shouts of disdain and anger as toes were trod on. The taller individual wore a long, tan London Fog trench coat, glasses, and had his hair combed in an elaborate pompadour. The shorter man was clad in a pinstriped three-piece suit with a white shirt and black bowtie, his brown hair cut short.

* * *

Kim and Ron were almost to the podium when the penny dropped for Kate. Bringing her hand back to her mouth, she spoke at a staccato pace. "Wade! You said there was no sign of Drakken, right?"

"Yeah."

"Try _Drew Lipsky!"_ she yelled, looking out at the crowd again.

"Oh, snap," Wade moaned, his hands flying across his keyboards as he re-scanned the crowd with the new search parameters.

* * *

Kim was presented the ceremonial scissors to cut the ribbon tied across Club Banana's front doors and Peregrine still hadn't managed to get her shot. "Hold still, you little bitch," she growled under her breath.

* * *

"Out of my way!" the pompadour-headed man growled, pushing a pair of teenagers aside.

"Hey, watch it, buddy! Autographs are gonna be after the ceremony!" one of them yelled.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

* * *

"Kate! I have a positive ID on Drew Lipsky! He's on the move and headed for the front of the crowd _now!"_

"Shit!" Kate exclaimed, dashing onto the stage. "Kim! Ron! Eyes front!" she yelled, pointing to the crowd.

Both Kim and Ron looked out into the crowd and, to their shock and horror, saw Drew Lipsky and Johan Demenz approaching them with deliberate steps, the former with his right hand jammed inside his coat. Kim sprang into action immediately, grabbing both Coco Banana and Monique by the collars and pushing them offstage.

* * *

"What the fuck…?" Peregrine muttered as she watched Kim shove Banana and Monique aside. From the right of the frame, she saw the new individual appear and stop beside the podium, facing the audience with a look of sheer murder on her pale face.

* * *

Lipsky and Demenz stormed the stage, the former withdrawing his hand from his coat to reveal a snub-nosed .38 Detective Special. Without hesitation, he leveled the revolver at Kim.

* * *

"Oh, no; she's _mine!"_ Peregrine screamed, drawing the best bead she could on Kim. Pressing a button on the joystick, it sent an instantaneous signal to the .300 Winchester sniper rifle that Bart had installed in the A/C unit on a remote-control rig, which allowed them to be far away from the scene and still execute their assignment. Coupled with the telemetric digital scope, the rig made a fine alternative to having to actually be at the scene.

* * *

Atop the roof next door, the Global Justice spotter heard the report of the rifle as soon as it went off. He immediately ordered the ground troops to get up to the roof of the three-storey building and find the source before anything else happened.

* * *

"Wade! Find that sniper!" Kate cried into her microphone, taking cover behind a stack of speakers. "Somebody's on a roof shooting at us!"

"GJ's already on it!" the tech guru replied. "Where's Kim?"

Kate scanned the stage looking for the teen. "She's lying on top of Coco Banana and Monique; looks like she's okay."

"What about Ron?"

Kate's eyes went wide.

* * *

Four Global Justice agents stormed the roof of Benson Brothers' with their weapons drawn, spreading out along the roof to find their elusive sniper. They had been informed by their spotter next door there was nobody on the roof since the refrigeration tech had left beforehand, so they were likely looking for a hidden rig of some sort. Due to the relatively small square-footage of the roof, it didn't take long for one of the agents to come across the A/C unit with the missing front panel.

"Over here!" he called, waving the other three team members to his location. One of them dropped a duffel bag beside the unit and withdrew a cordless drill with a Philips bit on it, making short work of the six screws holding the side access panel on, the entire panel clattering to the roof surface when the last screw was clear.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered when he saw the rig mounted inside the unit. It was a tight fit, but there was just enough room for the rifle to mount on the rig with the stock cut off at the hand grip. Reaching in, he switched the rifle's safety on to prevent it from firing again, then pressed the release for the weapon's magazine.

* * *

Peregrine knew the jig was up the second she lost the video feed from the telemetric scope, accompanied by a muffled explosion. Cursing, she slammed the laptop shut and withdrew the USB internet connection before throwing the door to the cab open. "It's blown! Go!" she snapped to Bart, who immediately threw the van into gear and drove away.

* * *

Kim rolled off her friend and the Cuban fashion guru, her eyes scanning the crowd for her would-be assailants. She caught sight of Lipsky first and realized she was also staring down the business end of a .38 snub-nose revolver. Acting on pure instinct, the young woman jumped to her feet and assumed a defensive stance. "Is this how low you've sunk, Drakken? Shooting an unarmed woman in the head?"

"I will have my vengeance!" he screamed, thumbing the hammer back. "You've been a nuisance to me for far too long, Kimberly Anne; the time has come to be rid of you once and for all!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," another voice said, directly behind the mad scientist. Wheeling about, Lipsky was about to level his gun on the newcomer when he saw her face.

"Shego?" he said in disbelief.

"Not anymore," Kate growled as she grabbed his right hand in her left and twisted, flaring her plasma at the same time. Lipsky screamed in pain, dropping the gun and collapsing to his knees. Driving her right fist into his face, the malachite woman couldn't help but smirk sadistically as she felt cartilage collapse under her bare knuckles. Lipsky's head reeled from the impact, his eyes no longer focused and his glasses askew on his now-broken nose. Turning him onto his stomach, Kate threw him roughly to the ground and drew his arms behind him, pulling a pair of handcuffs from a pouch on her belt. "It's over, Drew," she muttered as she cuffed him.

Kim, meanwhile, had found Demenz trying to get away and captured him in a flying tackle. The pair went down in a tangle of arms and legs, ending with Kim on top of Demenz' back, her left hand planted on the back of his head, holding his face against the asphalt. With her free hand, she drew her grappler from its holster on her right thigh and released the cable's reel, using it to hog-tie the Teutonic terror's arms and feet together—a move shown to her by her cousin Joss in her last visit to the Lazy "C" ranch—with Demenz screaming obscenities the entire time.

"Oh, shut up," she said, mashing his face into the pavement again, "I'm really sick of listening to you, you overcompensating midget."

It wasn't long before two Denver PD officers came to collect Demenz and Lipsky, leaving Kim and Kate standing near the podium. They didn't get a chance to say two words to each other before the bomb went off on the Benson Brothers' roof, sending the area into chaos once again. Police officers and GJ agents could be seen directing panicking onlookers along the sidewalks in either direction, keeping the road clear for emergency vehicles.

Kate brought her hand to her mouth again, her other hand holding the earpiece tighter in her ear. "What the hell was that, Wade?"

"Our sniper was using a remote control rig so he didn't have to try to stay up there; looks like he knew GJ would be crawling over the place," Wade replied. "When the first shot went off, the spotter next door heard it and sent some agents to find the gun and neutralize it… looks like it was rigged with a bomb, too."

Kim, meanwhile, was searching the crowd for Ron. There were plenty of blond-headed young men in the crowd, but Kim knew she'd be able to pick Ron's mop of unruly corn-colored locks out of any crowd. Not having any luck, she turned back to the stage area and saw four paramedics crouched around a figure lying prone on the ground. Feeling her heart leap to her throat, the auburn-headed hero slowly made her way toward them.

Her scream was heard all the way across Denver.

* * *

_A/N: Looks like it hit the fan on this one! Some may notice that, as much as Drakken and Dementor were played up in the beginning of the story, their demise seems a little understated. The reason for that is simple: I started out with the Drakken/Dementor team as my idea for the main antagonists, but my muse took me in a different direction. As such, to allow me to concentrate on the new main antagonist (the Phoenix Corporation, aka Peregrine and crew), I decided to have the two mad scientists make an attempt on Kim in the wide open, resulting in their capture. It won't be the last we see of them, but it wasn't the flashy ending to their careers I originally planned on._

_In the next chapter we'll sort out the aftermath of the entire sitch, and we'll find out what's on everybody's mind... what happened to Ron?_

_Leave a review, get a response!_

_Cheers,  
Deuce  
_


	10. Chapter Nine

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:** The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series Kim Possible are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental._

* * *

_A/N: Here it is; the nominally anticipated ninth chapter of_ The Adult Years. _I know there were a few people wondering what the fallout would be after the little cliffie I left everybody with in the last chapter. Thankfully this chapter flowed well for me; it was only due to time constraints and that world-famous pain in the backside known as "real life" that kept me from getting this one done and posted sooner._

_As always, a shout out to those who took the time to review the last chapter; namely shana elmsford, CajunBear73, The Samurai Crunchbird, KP's Man and DancingInTheMoonlight13. Thanks for taking the time to leave your input/opinions, they're appreciated as always._

_Without further ado, on with the story!  
_

**_

* * *

CHAPTER NINE_**

On a secluded mountaintop in the Minami Alps of Japan, roughly eighty miles from Tokyo, sits an institution of learning that very few people know about—the Yamanouchi School. Students there study a variety of subjects, ranging from mathematics to language and sciences, much like just about any other school in the whole of Japan.

Standard education, however, is not the sole concern or purpose of the Yamanouchi School. After all, if it were, it would be in a much more accessible location than a secluded mountaintop quite literally in the middle of nowhere. No, the main purpose of the Yamanouchi School is to teach and instill the art of Tai Xing Pe'Kwar—Monkey Kung-Fu—into its students. Eighteen hours a day the school's forty students—ranging in ages from six to nineteen—assemble to practice their art; polishing their movements to the point they appeared to be dancing, even when sparring with a classmate; the entire time spent under the watchful eye of the school's Sensei.

Of course, Yamanouchi is more than just a highly-guarded secret school whose graduates become some of the best ninja in the world. It's more than an institution that teaches the ways and meanings of Tai Xing Pe'Kwar—it's the birthplace of Tai Xing Pe'Kwar and home to the discipline's most revered talisman… the Lotus Blade. Housed in a shrine on the school's grounds, the unassuming katana rests, awaiting the time when the Ultimate Monkey Master would again summon it into action.

It was coming on noontime when Yori Tanaka—one of Yamanouchi's brightest and most-skilled students—decided to pay the Lotus Shrine a visit. Having just finished working with some of the younger students, the lithe young ninja made her way to the small shrine without haste… it was, after all, a beautiful day and she wanted to enjoy the relaxing sunshine while she could.

Entering the open structure, the young woman smiled as she gazed at the simple katana resting on a wooden rack. Every time she looked at the blade, she couldn't help but think of Ron—or, Stoppable-kun, as she addressed him. Memories of their past encounters—from their first meeting in Middleton three years previous to their final fight with Monkey Fist barely a few months ago—flitted through her mind. Most of the memories brought joy to her, but a few of them managed to inflict a bit of sorrow, as well… namely when she first found out that Ron and Kim had taken their relationship beyond "just friends." She'd managed to hide her disappointment and appear happy for both of them—indeed, part of her was—but at the same time, she couldn't help but wish it was she, and not Kim Possible, whom Ron desired. In the end, though, she realized it was Ron's destiny and she would have to accept it; as time progressed, the proverbial pill's bitterness to swallow lessened.

Yori had probably been standing and staring at the Lotus Blade for about ten minutes when she thought she saw the sword move in its cradle. Rubbing her eyes, the young ninja stepped closer to inspect the sacred weapon. She had just started thinking her eyes were playing tricks on her when the pristine steel blade suddenly glowed a brilliant white and jumped violently from its cradle, landing with the tip embedded in the wooden floor, driving Yori back on her rear.

"What has happened here?"

Scrambling to her feet, Yori turned and immediately bowed to the new arrival. "Sensei, I came to visit the Lotus Shrine when the Blade glowed white and abruptly jumped from its resting place to land as you see it here."

Sensei nodded, stroking his flowing beard with his right hand. "I sensed something was amiss while I meditated," he muttered gravely. "Having the Lotus Blade react in such a fashion supports my suspicion—Stoppable-sama is in grave danger."

"What kind of danger?"

If it were possible, Sensei's face, though hidden behind his beard, darkened even more. "Mortal," he replied simply.

"But Stoppable-kun—Ron-kun—is the Monkey Master!" Yori protested. "What could possibly pose such a risk to the Chosen One?"

"Not every warrior on the path of darkness is a ninja, child; they do not all use weapons of honor."

Yori's eyes widened as the true meaning of Sensei's words sunk in. Even if Ron Stoppable was the Chosen One of prophecies older than her grandmother's great-grandmother, the young woman knew his abilities wouldn't make him any less susceptible to a bullet… especially if he didn't see it coming. "What are we to do, Sensei?" she asked, unable to keep all of the worry from her voice.

"You must go to Stoppable-sama at once," Sensei replied without hesitation. "Possible-san will undoubtedly make avenging this travesty her top priority; your assignment will be to protect Stoppable-sama during that time."

"I will prepare to go at once," the young ninja said, bowing to her master hastily before starting away.

"Wait," he said sternly, stopping her in her tracks. Approaching her, he continued in a much softer tone; that of a grandfather to his granddaughter. "Yori-chan, I must insist that you remain objective during your assignment. Do not let your feelings for Stoppable-sama interfere with your judgment."

"Sensei—Grandfather," she amended, confident they were alone, "I have come to terms with my 'crush,' as the Americans call it, on Ron-kun. I consider him a dear friend—Kim-chan, as well—and would do nothing to endanger either of them. If anything, I will work even harder to ensure they are protected."

"I am pleased to hear it," Sensei said, smiling warmly at his granddaughter. "Now, go prepare for your journey; I will make the necessary travel arrangements for you." With that, Yori leaned down to kiss her grandfather's cheek before heading to her cell to prepare.

_

* * *

_

Kim was at Ron's side before Kate could stop her, kneeling on the opposite side of his injury and staying out of the paramedics' way as best she could. Taking her gloves off, she pulled his glove from his right hand before taking it in both of hers. "Ron! For the love of God, Ron, talk to me!" she cried, tears flowing from her eyes.

Ron was barely conscious, his eyes glazed over and his already light complexion paling from blood loss. "KP?" he croaked, weakly squeezing her hand.

"Yes, Ron, it's me," she whispered, leaning down and kissing him on the forehead. "You're going to be okay, just hang in there for me."

"Excuse me, Miss Possible," one of the paramedics—a young woman barely older than either Kim or Ron—said, placing her hand gently on Kim's shoulder, "we have to put him on the gurney to get him in the ambulance. You'll have to move."

Kim started to protest, but a strong, yet gentle pair of hands took her by the arms and pulled her back. "Let them work, Kim," she barely heard Kate say, "we'll meet them at the hospital." Against her will, she let herself be pulled away from the man she loved as the medics placed him on the gurney. As soon as they had the gurney raised up to push him into the ambulance, however, she broke free from Kate's grasp and returned to his side, again holding his hand and talking softly to him. One of the paramedics started to protest, but the apparent head medic waved him off and allowed Kim to ride in the ambulance with Ron.

James, Anne, Jim and Tim Possible, meanwhile, had finally made their way to where Kate stood, all of them with worried looks on their faces. Directly behind them were Dean and Jean Stoppable, the former carrying their adopted daughter, Hana. All of them wore looks near panic on their faces.

"Where are Kim and Ron?" Anne asked, looking frantically about for any sign of either of them.

Kate took a deep breath before breaking the news to them. Even in her days with Team Go, she never liked being the bearer of bad news such as what she was about to drop on the four concerned parents in front of her. "Kim's riding with Ron to the hospital in the back of that ambulance," she said, pointing to the emergency vehicle that had just engaged its sirens, their piercing wail cutting through the night air. "We're going to the hospital so we can get the details from a doctor first-hand. Follow me." With that, the five adults, two teens and one toddler piled into two cars—both cookie-cutter Crown Vic's—and headed for the hospital, both anticipating and dreading their destination.

* * *

It was a scene of ordered chaos in the St. Joseph's emergency room; interns and nurses could be seen running in several directions at once, fetching items requested by the ER doctor. Near one of the exam rooms, Anne saw Kim arguing with one of the nurses.

"Dammit, that's my boyfriend in there; I'm _not_ leaving his side!" the redhead snapped.

"Listen, honey," the nurse retorted in a stern, no-nonsense tone, "the doctor's doing everything he can for your man right now, so just go sit down in the waiting room and we'll let you know the second we have more information."

Anne and Kate both approached at that point, the former grabbing her daughter by the shoulder. "Kimberly Anne, you've been around hospitals long enough to know that you can't go in there if you're not on the medical staff," she chided, gently pulling Kim away from the doors.

Kim exhaled, her shoulders slumping; she resembled a balloon with the air let out of it. "I know, Mom," she said, looking up at the nurse again. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you there," she mumbled chastely.

"It's okay," the nurse replied, smiling. "I've seen it all before and, for what it's worth, if it was me in your place, I'd probably do the same thing."

"Come on, Kim," the elder redhead said, guiding her toward her family, "let's go sit down and wait for the doctor."

Kim started following her mother and Kate back to the waiting room, but stopped short when she saw the Stoppables. Biting her lip, the teen avoided making eye contact with them and quickly took a seat on the opposite side of the room, as far as she could possibly get from her boyfriend's family, and buried her face in her hands, elbows resting on her knees as she sobbed silently.

Jean Stoppable noticed this and left her seat to take one beside Kim. Placing a hand on the redhead's back, she spoke softly to her. "Kim?"

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Stoppable," she whispered through her tears, "I always promised I'd never let Ron get hurt… now he might die because of me."

Much to Kim's surprise, the Stoppable matriarch drew her into a hug. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this, Kimberly," she said, a tear escaping her own eye. "There was absolutely nothing you could do that hadn't already been done to prevent this. Now, however, there is something you _can_ do."

Kim looked up and met Jean's eyes for the first time. "What's that?" she asked, sniffling.

Jean Stoppable's eyes and face took on an expression of pure hatred. "Find whoever did this to Ron and make the bastards pay," she snarled.

Kim nodded, wiping the last of her tears away. "That's a promise," she said with conviction.

"Come on," Jean prodded, standing up and holding her hand out to Kim, "let's go sit with our families." With a wan smile and a nod, Kim stood up with her and they rejoined their families, Kim taking a seat in between her father and Ron's in an almost symbolic position; the common tie between the two.

Kate, meanwhile, was keeping more or less to herself, letting the Possibles and Stoppables deal with their grief and worry on their own. She was worried, too, of course; being the relative newcomer, however, she felt the best course of action would be to let them have their time alone, so she stayed out of their way, loitering near a bulletin board on a wall and generally keeping to herself. Anne Possible finally noticed this and approached the former villainess.

"Miss Gogh?" she said hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kate replied, her voice emotionless. "Just figured I'd leave you guys some time to yourselves, y'know?"

"You're used to being an outsider, aren't you?"

That got Kate's attention. "What do you mean?" she asked, her gaze now fixed on Kim's mother.

"All your life you've been different; people had a hard time accepting you for who you are. Aside from your brothers, nobody else knew what it was like to be you, nobody could relate to you. Because of that, you've always tended to keep to yourself, shutting people out of your life because you thought they didn't understand. Does any of this sound familiar?"

Kate chuckled wryly, shaking her head. "Jesus, Doc; sounds to me like you've got my whole life story already figured out. Did Kim show you GJ's profile on me?"

"She's told me some of the basics, but I'm just guessing for the most part," Anne replied. "Judging by the way you've stood aside since we got here told me most of what I just told you; your reaction tells me I'm not far off the mark."

"You're pretty bang-on, actually," Kate replied, sitting in a chair against the wall. Anne took the cue and sat in the seat beside her. "Ever since that God-damned comet hit and gave me and my brothers these abilities and my friends abandoned me, I crawled into a shell. I figured that if my old friends didn't want me around anymore, why would anybody else?"

"What about your family?"

"They tried, but family and friends are two different things, no matter how well you get along and, as I'm sure you already know, my brothers and I didn't get along all that well; never did, never will. My parents and I always got along fine, so after we moved to Go Tower I would go over there and have dinner with them on Sundays—it was my sanity break, so to speak. When they died, I pretty much lost it; that's when I left Go Tower for the last time and, well… you get the idea from there."

"Well, things have changed now," Anne said, rising from her seat and motioning the malachite woman to follow her. "You don't have to sit in the corner by yourself anymore; you're Kim and Ron's friend, which makes you more than welcome to join us… especially when we're all here for the same reason."

Kate smiled a bit, but said nothing for some time, looking instead at her hands clasped in her lap. Finally, she looked back at the elder redhead and nodded slightly as she got out of her seat. Wordlessly the two women made their way to where the others sat, Kate taking a seat almost directly across from Kim while Anne returned to her seat between her daughter and husband.

After a few minutes, Kim looked up and made eye contact with Kate. "Thanks," she said softly.

"For what?" the former villainess said, puzzled.

"Being there for us," Kim replied, "and having our backs when we needed it."

"Fat lot of good that did," Kate spat. "Me being there didn't help Ron a whole hell of a lot, now did it?"

"If I'm not allowed to blame myself, then neither are you," Kim retorted, "neither one of us could have done anything about it. I'm talking about when Drakken and Dementor were coming through the crowd—speaking of which, why didn't GJ or the cops catch them before then?"

"Probably because they were looking for blue-skinned Dr. Drakken and bucket-head Professor Dementor; not pompadour-brain Drew Lipsky and Johan Demenz—never knew that was his first name," she added, as much to herself as anything. "I had a brainwave and had got Wade to scan the crowd for somebody matching Drew Lipsky's description rather than Drakken's; that's what tipped us off."

"Good thinking on your part," Kim nodded. "Don't know why any of the rest of us didn't think of it sooner, though."

"I don't know why I even thought of it," Kate shrugged. "I mean, I never even knew what Drew Lipsky looked like until he decided to show me a few pictures of himself from college—right about the same time he built those damned BeBe's. Other than that, he's always been a cross between Gargamel and Clumsy Smurf." Kim and her mother both laughed at that one.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Stoppable?"

Everybody wheeled to see a doctor in green scrubs spattered in blood, a mask hanging under his chin. Jean jumped from her seat the second she saw him. "I'm Jean Stoppable," she said, obviously nervous. Her husband stood up beside her, she introduced him to the doctor.

"I'm Dr. Newman," the man said, shaking their hands. By now everybody else had gathered behind the Stoppables and were waiting for the news; Kim standing almost between Ron's parents.

"How is he, Doctor?" Dean asked, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

"Your son is a very lucky young man," the doctor said grimly. "When he was hit, the bullet made a clean entry and exit through the left side of his lower abdomen, puncturing his small intestine. Through some miracle it missed everything else; however we were forced to remove a section of his small intestine roughly two feet long. He's in recovery right now and should be moved to a room in about an hour; you'll be able to see him then."

"So he's gonna be okay?" Kim said, her green orbs shining with hope.

"He's gonna be sore for awhile and he'll have to take it easy while his wounds heal, but I expect him to make a full recovery within six to eight weeks. We'd like to keep him here under observation for the next week or so, but I don't foresee any major problems," the doctor said with a smile. "It doesn't hurt that, other than having a high-caliber bullet driven through his guts, he's in excellent shape."

"Saving the world is a pretty good exercise regimen," she remarked with a wry grin.

"I'm sure it is," the doctor said with a nod. "Now, Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable, if you'll follow me, the nurses have some paperwork for you to fill out; just standard insurance forms, shouldn't take long."

As the Stoppables followed the doctor to the nurses' station, Kim sat back down and ran her hands through her hair. Suddenly a thought came to her. "Where's Rufus?"

"Right here," Jim said, holding the naked mole rat up in his hands. "One of the nurses chased him out of the ER with a broom and tried to whack him."

"He must've been in Ron's cargo pocket," Tim added, "and came out when they cut his pants off."

"At least this time they didn't fall off on their own," Kate quipped, earning a laugh from Kim and her brothers.

Just then Kim's Kimmunicator chirped. "Go, Wade."

"Hey, Kim," the teen phenom said, worry in his eyes. "Have you got any word yet?"

"He's gonna be okay," she replied with a warm smile. "He lost a chunk of small intestine, but the doctor says he should make a full recovery."

Wade returned the smile, the worry in his eyes replaced with relief. "That's good," he said, typing on his computer at the same time. "Incidentally, you'll be glad to know that Drakken and Dementor are both in lockup at the Denver Police headquarters; they're due to be shipped to the supermax facility in Florence sometime overnight."

"Any more word on what happened?"

"Nothing more than what I already told Kate," Wade said. "Remote setup on the rifle with a bomb rigged to it. Still not sure who put it there."

Kate had been sitting with Kim and listening to the conversation the entire time, but she'd remained silent up to that point. "I have a suspicion," she said grimly.

"Phoenix?" Kim guessed.

"Phoenix," Kate repeated with a nod. "That sounds like their kind of setup; rig it so you don't have to be anywhere near it and if anybody tampers with it… kaboom."

"I'll look into it," Wade said. "In the meantime, give my best to Ron's folks."

"You got it," Kim said, signing off.

_

* * *

_

Peregrine sat in the passenger's seat of the van and stewed silently over their botched mission. She knew the original shot managed to hit Possible's buffoon sidekick, but in the subsequent chaos, their rig had been discovered before she could get a second shot off and hopefully neutralize the former cheerleader once and for all. Instead, they had to flee before she could finish her assignment—something she was sure would be less than satisfactory to Hawk.

As if in response to her train of thought, the satellite phone in her pocket started vibrating. Taking a calming breath, the mercenary withdrew the device and flipped it open; the name Hawk glaring angrily at her from the screen. Pressing the green key to accept the call, she placed the telephone to her ear. "Peregrine," she said simply.

"I'm impressed with your strategy, Peregrine; most ingenious," the voice on the other end stated simply.

Peregrine was confused at his choice of words; sarcasm was never part of Hawk's normal vocabulary. "Excuse me?"

"Rather than attack Miss Possible directly, you've chosen to target her spirit," Hawk clarified. "Her affections for Ron Stoppable are known far and wide, regardless how many journalists manage to misquote his identity. Placing him in mortal danger will, more than likely, affect her judgment in detrimental ways to her performance, making her a much easier target for you."

"Thanks," the mysterious mercenary said with a grin. _Hey, don't tell the boss you fucked up if you don't have to._ "We'll start planning the next step of our operation when we get back to base."

"Very well; keep me posted of any developments that come your way."

Peregrine snapped her phone shut, ending the call without preamble. "Just goes to show there really is a silver lining to every cloud," she muttered with a smirk.

"Come again?" Bart said, steering the van towards a dilapidated shed at an abandoned rail yard where they'd stowed their transportation.

"I fucked up, but Hawk thinks it's all part of my 'master plan,'" she replied. "He went off with a bunch of psycho-babble about how I'm attacking Possible's spirit by taking down her boytoy."

"So I take it you're gonna run with that?" he ventured, parking the van beside their hidden vehicle—an earlier-model, black Dodge Durango.

"Damn straight I am," the woman said as they transferred their equipment back to the Durango from the van. "Even though I didn't pull the job off the way I intended, this could still work to our advantage… it's just gonna take a little more planning on my part."

"So you dodged a bullet on that one," her partner summarized, placing a package in the back of the van.

"Pretty much," she replied, making a quick circuit of the shed. At various spots she would briefly stop and look at something before continuing on. That lasted for about two minutes, after which the two Phoenix members climbed into the Durango and left the claptrap building—complete with stolen van—behind. Once they felt they were far enough from the scene, Peregrine withdrew a remote control from the glove box of the SUV and pressed the button in the center of it, causing the shed—and its contents—to go up in a massive fireball, destroying any evidence that would have been contained within.

"So what's our next step?" Bart asked as he merged into traffic on the interstate.

"I'm not sure right now," Peregrine replied, leaning on the armrest mounted on the door. "I've never tried psychological warfare before; it's gonna take some research before I have a clear idea on how to proceed from here."

"Back to the drawing board, huh?" Bart mused.

"Yeah… kinda sucks, but the best plans take time."

"Well, with half of Team Possible out of commission, I'd say that's something we have a little bit of."

Peregrine nodded slowly, but stopped as a split-second recollection flashed through her mind. "There was somebody else there—somebody else with Possible," she muttered. Grabbing her satphone again, she called Phoenix's IT division. "Raven; Peregrine here… I'm good, thanks; listen, I need all of the TV and any other footage of tonight you can get your hands on sent to my desktop yesterday… No, it's not for my archives, smartass; I'm following up so I can plan the next phase of my assignment… Okay, that works. Thanks, Raven." Snapping her phone shut, she leaned back in the seat and made herself comfortable for the remainder of the voyage.

* * *

Back at the hospital, Ron had finally been stabilized and moved to an intensive care unit following the emergency surgery and was being allowed two visitors at a time for ten minutes. His parents had gone in with Hana (while that was technically three visitors, the nurses turned a blind eye to the toddler's presence), while James and Anne Possible had decided to return to Middleton with their sons, asking Jean Stoppable to call them the second there were any developments. Kim and Kate, meanwhile, were waiting their turn to see Ron; Kate flipping through a year-old edition of _Hot Rod_ magazine and Kim pacing impatiently up and down the aisle nearby.

After about five minutes of that, Kate snapped the magazine shut and glared at the redhead. "For the love of God, Kim, sit down!" she said sharply as the teen paced by her for the umpteenth-dozen time. "You're making me tired just watching you!"

Kim exhaled sharply as she dropped into a chair almost directly opposite the former villainess. "Sorry, Kate; I just hate sitting around waiting," she said, running a hand through her hair. "It feels like we're just twiddling our thumbs while whoever did this gets away."

"I know it feels like it, but we're just waiting for the word to do our part," Kate rationalized. "Right now the combined resources of GJ—along with Wade—are working every source they have to find out just where and when we're supposed to hit."

Kim was about to reply when she noticed a uniformed figure enter the waiting room. Rising from her seat, she greeted the newcomer with a curt nod. "Doctor Director; what brings you here?"

"A combination of business and personal matters," the eyepatch-clad woman replied. "First of all, Kim, I would like express my deepest regrets for what happened to Ron; a full investigation has been launched to determine how—and who—let this happen.

"Second of all is the matter regarding Miss Gogh," Director continued, turning her gaze to the mint-skinned woman, who had also risen to stand with Kim. "Judging by your actions this evening, I'm inclined to believe beyond doubt that your desire to renounce your criminal ways is sincere."

Neither Kim nor Kate could suppress the smiles of elation that crossed their faces at Director's statement. Kate's, however, didn't last long as another thought crossed her mind. "So what's that mean for me? There's still all the shit I pulled before I decided to go straight."

"Normally we would still have to take you into custody and try you on all the charges that are pending," Director replied evenly. "However, your case is… _unique,_ to say the least."

"Can we cut the bullshit and get to the point?" Kate snapped.

"What it boils down to is the fact that every crime was charged to Shego; age unknown, formerly of Team Go with several aggravated assault charges prior to joining Dr. Drakken," the brunette said with a twinkle in her good eye, "while before me stands Kathryn Shavaun Gogh, age twenty-six, no criminal record of any kind—not even a parking violation—and currently serving as a temporary agent with Global Justice."

Kim could hardly believe her ears. "You mean…?"

Director nodded affirmation to the redhead before turning her gaze to Kate. "That's right, Miss Possible; your friend here is as free a citizen as you or I. Congratulations, Miss Gogh."

It was all Kate could do to not fall flat on her backside as Dr. Director's statement sank in. As it was, she slumped heavily into one of the waiting room chairs with an awestruck look on her face. "I don't believe it," she whispered, "after all this time… it was this ea_sy?"_

"It's amazing what's possible within the justice system when the right type of criminal agrees it's time to forsake their old ways," Director said, still smiling. "There's a little paperwork to take care of, but you can do that when you stop by the barracks to retrieve your personal belongings."

Kim cast a quick glance to her friend and, realizing she was still shell-shocked, spoke for her. "Thanks again, Dr. Director; Kate and I'll be there tomorrow morning. It's late enough now that, after we see Ron, I think we'll find a place to crash for the night."

"Of course," Director said understandingly. "If there's anything we can do for you, please don't hesitate to contact us."

"Just make sure Wade stays in the loop with the people at GJ Intel," Kim requested. "The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better I'll like it."

Director nodded, but there was a hint of—_pleading,_ almost—in her eye as she met the redhead's gaze. "Do me a favor, Kim," she said softly, "don't be going off half-cocked when we get a lead and forget to think with your head. Whoever's behind this is very good at what they do; if you start letting your emotions influence your decisions too much, it could lead to a huge error on your part. You saw what happened to Ron—don't let your heart put you in that same position… or worse."

"Don't worry, Doctor; I've got a level head to keep me focused," she said, turning to face Kate. "That is," she amended, addressing the now-free woman, "providing she'll help me."

Kate looked up at Kim for the first time since being told she was cleared to start her new life. "You can take that one to the bank, Princess," she said with a hint of Shego's trademark smirk. "You helped me; now it's my turn to return the favor."

"Excellent," Director said with a nod. "On that note ladies, I must return to headquarters and oversee the investigation into tonight's debacle; apparently a few of my 'top agents' will require having a new one ripped before it's said and done." Noting Kim's bemused smirk, the eyepatch-clad woman couldn't help but nod. "Yes, he's one of them," she said simply.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Kim said. "I mean, how does a pompous ass like him end up one of your so-called top agents?"

"You would be surprised how far up the ladder you can get when ass-kissing is an art form you've perfected," Director said dryly. "I'll take pictures of his face when he finds out he's getting desk duty for three months and send them to you."

"I wish I still had a locker door to stick them on."

"I'm sure you'll find a use for them." With that, Dr. Director bade Kim and Kate farewell, leaving just as swiftly as she'd entered.

Once she was gone, the redhead sat down beside her friend. "So, Kate, how's it feel to know that you're free and clear?"

"God, Kim, you have no idea," the malachite woman said, her face a mixture of emotions. "I mean, after spending as much time on the wrong side of the law as I have, for it to end like this is almost too good to be true. Part of me feels like a ten-ton weight's been lifted from my shoulders, but another part's waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"You got the word from Betty Director herself, Kate; it's over," Kim said, placing her hand on Kate's shoulder. "Now you can focus on the next chapter of your life."

Kate smiled at her companion but remained silent. She'd spent so long as a criminal and committed such a wide range of offenses—some of which were fairly substantial in nature (when one is helping to try and take over the world, the charges tend to be that way)—that to be unconditionally pardoned of them seemed almost too good to be true to the point that part of her didn't dare believe it. Considering the expressions on both Kim's and Dr. Director's faces, however, made it a little easier.

Being suddenly absolved of her past transgressions, however, presented a whole new series of problems. For the first time since she'd been hit with the Attitudinator several months ago, the former villainess was forced to consider how she would make her living as an upstanding citizen. Sure, she still had her Child Development degree to fall back on, but something told her that resuming her teaching career wasn't a viable option this time around. Luckily, thanks to a couple of Swiss bank accounts she'd deposited funds in over the years, she could take her time and make a decision she could be sure she was satisfied with.

Kate had become so entranced with her thoughts that she didn't notice Kim speaking to her until the third time the redhead called her name, snapping the former villainess from her reverie. Shaking her head, she turned to a now-standing Kim before responding. "Sorry, Kim; what was that?"

"I said we can go in and see Ron now," the teen replied, motioning to the swinging doors to the ICU. "His parents just came out; they're going to go get a room at a hotel and get some sleep. I'm thinking we should probably do the same thing soon."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Kate said, rising, "but right now you have other things you're more interested in doing—like seeing your boy."

"Got that right," Kim said simply, "let's go."

Chuckling to herself, Kate shook her head as she followed the redhead to Ron's room. They were silent for most of the journey, until Kim fell back so she was walking beside the jade-skinned woman. "Shavaun?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My mother's wonderful idea," the former villainess replied dryly. "Her father was of Irish descent, so she decided to keep that in the family by giving me a name with Irish roots. According to Dad she wanted it to be my first name—Shavaun Kathryn Gogh—but he vetoed her and said no daughter of his would have a weird first name."

"I'm guessing he suggested Kathryn?"

"Yeah; like I said, Mom wanted my first name to be Shavaun, but her original suggestion for my middle name was Marie, because Dad's mother's family were all Italian. Dad didn't like either one of them, so he suggested Kathryn Elizabeth—Kathryn for his mother's mother and Elizabeth because he had a crush on Liz Taylor when he was a kid… or, at least that's what he told me, anyway."

"So the name you finally got was a compromise between them," Kim surmised as they approached the door to Ron's room.

Kate nodded in affirmation to Kim's statement. "I still wish I'd got something other than Shavaun for a middle name, though," she groused, following the younger woman through the door.

"For what it's worth, I kinda like it," Kim commented with a grin.

"You want it, you can have it."

Kim was about to reply, but the words caught in her throat when she laid eyes on the figure in the bed before her. Tears welled in her eyes as she approached, an unbidden feeling of guilt overwhelming her. She knew it wasn't her fault that he was here, but she couldn't help but feel responsible for his condition. Arriving beside the bed, Kim took Ron's hand in both of hers and held it, bringing it up to her lips so she could kiss it. "I'm so sorry, baby," she whispered as one tear from each eye broke free and landed on his chest, leaving two wet spots on the blanket that covered him.

In the interest of respect, Kate hung back and watched the scene before her; almost feeling as if she were intruding on what should be a private moment for the two teens. At the same time, however, she realized she'd been asked to come; so she stayed, giving them as much privacy as she could afford them, provided the size of the room. Looking on in silence, she could feel her heart slowly break as Kim pulled up a chair and sat down beside her boyfriend's bed, his hand always clasped in one of hers, if not both. _No teenager should ever have to live through what they're putting up with,_ she thought as Kim softly stroked his hair, laying her head on his chest. Even though she was silent, Kate could see the redhead's shoulders convulse with sobs._ She's really taking this hard; what would she be like if he'd—Kathryn Shavaun Gogh, you get that thought out of your head right now!_

Even though it was only in her mind, Kate was sure she'd heard the last comment in the stern voice of her mother. Shaking her head, the ebony-haired vixen turned away from the bed and studied a poster on the wall that detailed the human respiratory system with feigned interest, hoping to discourage any further visits from her mother to her mind.

Kim, meanwhile, had regained control of her emotions, yet she remained for some time with her head on Ron's chest. Closing her eyes, she allowed the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest to soothe her; reinforcing the fact that he was, indeed, alive and recovering. When she did finally lift her head, she immediately leaned in and kissed his lips tenderly, the hand that had been playing with his hair now placed gently on his cheek. Pulling back, she rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, her lips lightly brushing against his as she whispered "I love you."

"Love you, too, KP."

It was dry, croaky and weak, but it was still Ron's voice. Kim's eyes snapped open and were immediately met by the half-hooded, chocolate-brown orbs of her boyfriend and best friend. Doing her best to suppress the squeal of delight, Kim spun around and looked to Kate. "He's awake!" she exulted, then returned her gaze to Ron. "How do you feel, baby?"

"Like I've been shot," he replied dryly. "Y'know how people say a paper cut is the worst kind of pain? Yeah, not so much in this case."

Kate was at Ron's bedside, standing just behind where Kim sat when the young man made his statement. Looking at him, she nodded affirmation. "You're right, Ron; most people that say that are pencil-pushers that have never been on the business end of a gun."

"And you would know this… how?" Kim asked.

In response, Kate un-tucked her shirt and pulled it up with one hand, at the same time pushing the waistband of her jeans down a bit with the other to reveal a circular scar roughly a half-inch in diameter on her abdomen. It was old and long-healed, but neither Kim nor Ron needed to ask any more questions. "I was still with Team Go," she explained, "and we were responding to a hold-up at a convenience store. When we got there, we found out the gunman was some punk spun out on blow and jonesing for his next fix.

"We decided to try the divide and conquer approach; Hego and Mego each came at him from one side while I swung around to get behind him. Everything was going great until I had a flash of brilliance and kicked a mop bucket. Cokehead spun around and capped me before Hego or Mego could even move." At that point, Kate couldn't help but laugh. "Ironically, the fact he was spun out on blow is probably what saved my life—if he'd been straight when he took that shot, he probably would have killed me."

"Are you sure about that?" Kim asked.

"When the cops questioned him after they brought him in, his exact words were 'I was trying to kill that fucking bitch!'" she stated frankly. "Near as I can figure, he had the DT's so bad—and I probably scared the living shit out of him—he turned around and fired a panic shot."

"So what happened?"

"Well, the cops brought him in after Hego clocked him and charged him with attempted murder, on top of all the other charges he faced," Kate replied. "He was found guilty on everything and sentenced to twenty years. I, meanwhile, was in the hospital for two days; they took the bullet out, patched me up and sent me home after keeping me for observation."

"Two days?" Kim repeated incredulously. "Mrs. Stoppable said Ron was going to be here a week!"

"Don't forget I'm not entirely normal," Kate said, flicking her thumb alight briefly for emphasis. "Remember how I told you getting fried won't fry me? Same thing applies to most other injuries; if it doesn't kill me outright, I stand a better chance than just about anybody else on the planet—except for my brothers, of course—to survive and heal faster."

"How much of a difference does it make?"

"I broke my arm and three ribs—on top of a three-hundred-thousand volt enema—when you kicked me into that tower," Kate replied, "and I was back to normal within a week."

"That makes me feel a _little_ better about it," Kim said with a smirk, "I'm just glad it all worked out in the end."

"Same here," the mint-skinned woman agreed with a nod.

"That makes three of us," Ron said from his bed, holding his right hand in a thumbs-up gesture.

Kim turned in her seat to smile at her boyfriend, again running her hand through his hair. "Just like we're all glad that you're gonna be okay," she said softly, leaning over to kiss his forehead. "Kate and I are gonna go get a room at a hotel across the street; we'll stop in and see you again before we go back to Middleton—something tells me this sitch is gonna come to a head before you're out of here."

"Man, that tanks," the towheaded teen groused, gazing at the ceiling. "How am I supposed to have your back when I'm in here on the DL?"

"I've got Kate to cover me," Kim replied matter-of-factly, the other woman nodding in acknowledgement.

"Is Dr. Director cool with that?"

"That's right, you didn't hear," the redhead said, snapping her fingers. "Doctor Director was in to talk to us not long before we came in here to see you; she found a way to make Shego and Kate two completely different people, so Kate's a free woman."

"Cool," Ron said, giving Kate a weak smile. Both women could tell he was getting tired, so they made to leave, Kim giving him a tender kiss on the lips and another on the forehead. When she tried to pull away, however, Ron kept hold of her hand.

"Ron, you need to rest, baby," she whispered, pulling a little more forcefully on her hand. "We'll be back tomorrow morning."

"I want to talk to Kate for a sec before you guys go," he replied.

Nonplussed, Kim shrugged before she turned to her companion. "Ron wants to talk to you before we go," she said. Turning back to her boyfriend, she kissed him again. "I love you," she whispered against his lips as they parted.

"Back at'cha, KP," he replied. "See you in the morning."

Once Kim had left the room, Ron turned to look at the former villainess that now occupied the chair beside his bed. "What's up?" she asked simply, unsure as to why he would wish to speak to her alone.

"I need you to do me a favor, Kate," he said, the pain he'd been able to hide starting to show in his voice. "Keep an eye on Kim while I'm out of commission—don't let her go out and do something stupid. Just… just make sure she keeps her head screwed on straight."

Kate smiled, understanding now what Ron's reasoning was. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry about her, Ron; we'll all be keeping an eye on her. Betty already warned her to not go off half-cocked and I've already agreed to be the level head of the operation while you're laid up." Her face took on a mock-serious expression as she continued, pointing a finger in his face. "I don't intend to make a living out of it, though, so you better make damn good and sure you make a full recovery so you can babysit Princess yourself, y'hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a grin. "Thanks, Kate."

"Forget it, just make sure you get better soon," she said, giving his shoulder one last squeeze before turning to leave. Stopping at the door, she turned to look at him one more time. "You're the one she wants beside her at the end of the day, Ron—she _needs_ you beside her. Remember that." With that, the ebony-haired vixen left Ron alone to let him rest and recover.

Kim was waiting by the nurses' station when Kate came out. "What did he have to say?" she asked as the former villainess approached her.

"He just wanted to make sure his girl was in good hands while he's on injured reserve," Kate replied lightly.

Kim couldn't help but chuckle as she fell into step beside her friend. "That's my guy—always looking out for me."

"Yeah, well, you could do a hell of a lot worse than having a guy like that."

"Trust me; I know," Kim replied as they left the ICU and headed to the hospital exit.

_

* * *

_

Will Du sat ramrod-straight in his chair at the conference room table and observed the other seven men and women that surrounded it. He knew that all of them—himself included—were the team leaders from the deployment in Denver and this was their debriefing following the assignment. What he didn't know and was rather curious about was who amongst them would be facing the full wrath of Dr. Director (of course as top agent, Du knew he had nothing to worry about) for the debacle it had turned into.

It was at that moment Dr. Betty Director stormed into the conference room and slammed the door behind her with such force that the light fixtures shook. All eight of the room's occupants watched their senior officer stride to the head of the table and stop, slamming a binder onto the lectern she stood behind. She remained silent for several moments as her eye scanned the room's occupants while she took several deep breaths to keep her composure. When she finally did speak, her voice was calm, but venom dripped from every word. "What I want to know," she seethed, "is who the_ fuck_ let this happen."

"Doctor Director," Will began, his voice as pompous as ever, "I believe I speak for everybody here when I say that none of us let anything happen this evening. While it is regrettable what happened to Mr. Stoppable, perhaps it will serve as a lesson to Miss Possible and her vigilante group of amateurs that these situations are best left to the professionals."

"Mister Du," Director retorted, her gaze boring holes through the Asian man's forehead, "need I remind you that those 'amateurs,' as you so politely refer to them, have single-handedly managed to finish the majority of the jobs that 'professionals' such as yourself have fouled up on several separate occasions; that those 'amateurs' are fully-sanctioned by Global Justice as independent contractors? Global Justice is supposed to be the premier law enforcement agency on the planet, and yet I'm not entirely confident that my so-called 'top agents' are qualified to work a Tuesday afternoon security shift at a_ strip mall!"_

One of the other team leaders—a young woman roughly the same age as Kate—raised her hand tentatively. "Doctor?" she said meekly.

Director took another deep breath before acknowledging the new speaker. "Yes, Ms. Bartlett?"

"I can't exactly speak for the other team leads here, but I can say that from what I saw, all units did their due diligence in combing the area before it was secured… somebody just got the best of us."

"Can you elaborate on how they 'got the best of us'?"

"Well, sir, when we arrived on-scene to secure the area, the refrigeration technician was already working on the Laundromat's rooftop units," Rhonda Bartlett continued, more confident now that she knew Dr. Director wouldn't bite her head off. "Two of my men went to the rooftop to question the technician while I spoke with the building's proprietor. We concluded that the technician was legitimate and agreed to allow him to work, however I assigned two of my men to the rooftop next door to ensure the technician didn't try to pull any stunts."

"Nobody saw him mount a sniper rifle in the HVAC unit?"

"We can only assume that was the first thing he did," Bartlett replied, "before we arrived on-scene. Remote-controlled sniper rigs have so far been unheard of in field use and, quite frankly sir; it was the furthest thing from my mind."

Director nodded. "Thank you, Rhonda," she said quietly, "that's the sort of answer I was looking for."

Another agent spoke up at that moment. "Doctor," the man said, "has anybody heard anything about Mr. Stoppable?"

"I just came from the hospital and was informed that Mr. Stoppable is expected to pull through," Director replied, her voice slightly more pleasant. "Thanks to his proximity to the hospital and the almost instantaneous response of emergency personnel, he is expected to suffer minimal long-term effects as a result."

"Thank God," the same man said, his posture relaxing slightly.

"Indeed," Director agreed, leaning heavily against the lectern and staring down at it, without really seeing anything. Finally she looked back up at the assembled team leaders, her expression and voice emotionless. "I expect you all to have your reports submitted to me by end of day tomorrow; dismissed. Rhonda, Will, if you would stay behind for a moment, please?"

Du and Bartlett remained in their seats as the other six officers filed out of the room, both of them wondering why they'd been kept behind. Once the door closed behind the last departure, Bartlett looked briefly at Du before turning her gaze to the senior officer. "Sir?" she said quizzically.

Director left her position behind the lectern to take a seat at the table, almost directly across from Du and three seats away from Bartlett, before she spoke. "Rhonda, I just wanted to make perfectly clear that I don't find you at fault for what happened tonight. As you've said already, remote sniper rigs have so far been unheard of and aren't exactly a contingency that we were properly prepared for; obviously we'll have to change that."

"Yes, sir; thank you, sir," Bartlett said with a nod.

"What is your current assignment, Rhonda?"

"Tracking and possible infiltration of the Worldwide Evil Empire."

Director shuddered at the name of her own flesh and blood's attempt at world domination. "Not anymore," she said. "Effective immediately, your new orders are to assemble your team and prepare for infiltration of the Phoenix Corporation's facilities, in conjunction with Team Possible."

Bartlett was confused. _"Team_ Possible, sir?" she repeated.

"That's correct; Miss Possible has recruited a temporary stand-in for Mr. Stoppable," Director replied, "Miss Kathryn Gogh."

"Doctor Director, I _must_ object!" Du interjected, standing up from his seat. "Miss Gogh is a well-known criminal with a past that cannot be ignored!"

Director's gaze rounded on her so-called "top" agent, once again shooting daggers at him. "Agent Du, if you can find _anything_ that links Miss Gogh to any sort of crime, I would be glad to see it. It's not her fault that she happens to bear a resemblance to Shego; who, I might add, has recently disappeared."

"You can't be serious, Dr. Director," Du said, sounding scandalized. "We all know full well who that woman really is!"

"Which is why I'm willing to give her this chance!" Director snapped back, leaving her own seat to look Du in the eye. "Ever since she approached Miss Possible at her graduation ceremony, Miss Gogh has been nothing but cooperative and was a valuable asset to our team this evening—if not for her, we would not only be concerned with Mr. Stoppable's condition, but we would also be mourning the loss of Kim Possible."

"I find that hard to believe," Du spat.

"Rhonda, you're dismissed," Director said, turning to face the other agent briefly. "Go get some rest and prepare your report; you will start on your new assignment at 0800 hours."

"Yes sir, Doctor," Bartlett replied, leaving the conference room. Once the door had closed, Director returned her gaze to her "top" agent.

"Will, I'm disappointed in you," she said softly, but with an edge to her voice. "You of all people should be aware of the benefits of looking the other way at times."

"With all due respect, Doctor, my situation was nothing like the one that surrounds Miss Gogh," Du replied evenly. "Where I was simply a misled teenager in need of some direction, Miss Gogh's actions were fully premeditated without regard to the consequences."

"And yet she came—of her _own free will,_ need I remind you—to Kim and expressed a sincere desire to renounce her past and start afresh! It wasn't getting thrown in the tank for the fiftieth time that convinced her; it was having a taste of straight living and having friends that did it!" Director's voice had risen to an almost full-blown yell at this point, so she stopped and took a breath to calm herself before continuing. "If you can't understand that now, Will, then there's no hope you ever will."

Du realized that his current argument would get nowhere using his current tack, so he tried a different one. "You do realize, of course, the number of regulations that you've broken in doing what you've done?"

"I've been in this business for twenty-two years, Will; you don't think I've got almost the entire rulebook—not to mention our very _charter—_memorized by now? Of course I know how many regulations got twisted, bent and/or broken in doing what I've done!"

"Then why do it?"

Director sighed. _My God this boy's thick._ "Will, have you ever wondered about the wisdom of an order or questioned one of our regulations?"

"No, sir; I follow orders and regulations without question, like a top agent should."

"Wrong, Will; a top agent doesn't just blindly go 'by the book' one hundred percent of the time," Director replied, hoping to get through to the young man before her. "Yes, we have rules, regulations and guidelines that should be followed, but I will _never_ throw the book at one of my agents because they thought outside the box and found a different or better resolution to a situation… even if it involved breaking a few rules in the process. If somebody had thought outside the box earlier this evening, Ron Stoppable wouldn't currently be laying in a hospital room with a hole in his gut."

Du merely nodded as Dr. Director's message finally started to sink in. "You do raise a good point, Dr. Director," he said. "Perhaps a review of my habits is in order."

_Hallelujah,_ she thought, but kept her expression neutral. "You'll have plenty of time to do that while you're on administration duties for the next four weeks," she said.

"Yes, sir," Du replied tonelessly, although he looked like he'd been slapped in the face.

"Very well then; dismissed," Director said curtly. Du performed a picture-perfect parade turn and marched out of the office, pulling the door shut behind him—_maybe _a little harder than he should have—with the eyepatch-clad woman watching him the entire time.

_

* * *

_

"Well, here we are," Kate said as she led Kim into the double room. Looking around as the redhead entered, the former villainess nodded in satisfaction. "Not bad, all things considered."

"Compared to some of the places Ron and I have stayed, this place is the Waldorf-fucking-Astoria," Kim retorted, dropping the Chinese takeout bags she carried on the table unceremoniously.

Kate blinked in surprise at the teen's outburst. "Geez, Kimmie; I don't think I've ever heard you use that kind of language before," she remarked.

"All part of the growing up process, Kate," Kim said with a shrug, "and when I get overtired and stressed, the filter between my brain and my mouth gets a bit more lenient than usual… to the point of being non-existent."

"Hey, I'm not complaining; truth be told, I'm rather glad to hear you drop an f-bomb," Kate said as she opened her late dinner.

Kim quirked a quizzical eyebrow at her roommate as she pulled her boots from her feet. "Why?"

"Goes to show you're human."

Kim flopped into the seat across from Kate with a sigh and tore into her own meal. "Yeah, I guess that's one way to look at it," she said with a chuckle.

"I was the same way," Kate said between bites of fried rice. "I would have to stub my toe to the point of almost breaking it to get the word 'damn' out of me. After my brothers started getting on my nerves and I started considering a career change, however… my language got about as colorful as Joseph's coat."

"Only you would use a biblical figure as a metaphor for foul language," Kim said with a laugh.

"Hey, I grew up Catholic; I went to Catechism when I was little… I remember this stuff."

"Yet you still chose to break half of the Ten Commandments."

"And you haven't?" Kate countered. "How about_ thou shalt not bear false witness?_ Surely to God you've lied at least once in your life."

"Okay, I've broken a couple of them, too," Kim admitted sheepishly, staring into her box of kung-pow chicken. "I didn't mean to sound judgmental or anything."

"Don't worry about it; I shouldn't have snapped," Kate replied. "Guess the stress is getting to all of us."

Conversation lapsed there as the two women concentrated on their dinners. As Kim had alluded to, it had been a long, stressful day for both of them and the chance to sit down and enjoy a meal—even if it was second-rate Chinese takeout—and get a few hours' rest was more appealing than mindless "girl-talk…" at least, for the moment, anyway. When both had eaten their fill, Kim gathered up the garbage and placed it in the trash can between the two double beds while Kate slumped onto one of the beds and slipped her boots from her feet with a satisfied moan.

"Free at last, free at last, praise the Lord I'm free at last!" she exulted, stretching out on the bed and wriggling her toes in relief.

Ignoring Kate's outburst (save a smirk of amusement), Kim walked by her former adversary and headed for the bathroom. "Do you need to use it first, Kate? I'm going for a shower."

"Nah, I'm fine," she replied, waving the redhead on her way. "I'm just gonna see if I can find anything mindlessly entertaining on the tube."

"Okay." With that, the bathroom door closed, leaving Kate to her own devices. Picking up the remote control, the malachite vixen turned on the television and started surfing channels, hoping to find something "mindlessly entertaining," as she'd put it. Given the late hour, however, all she could find were either infomercials or typical late-night smut. Flipping a little more, though, she did come across some music-only channels; the kind that have no picture other than white text on a black screen with the current song's information (artist, title, etc.). Finding a channel she liked, Kate dropped the remote on the bedside table and leaned back, listening to the music.

Fifteen minutes later, Kim came out of the bathroom re-dressed and with her hair wrapped up in a towel. She was just about to speak to her roommate when she noticed the former villainess' eyes were closed, so she instead took a seat at the foot of the other bed and continued to dry her hair. Only then did she notice the music Kate had been listening to, so she looked up at the TV screen. When she realized it was on an eighties hard-rock station she immediately thought to change it, but as she listened to the song, she decided to leave it—at least, for the time being. After all, the song was one of her mother's favorites and she had come to love it.

"You can change it if you want."

Kim jumped at the sound of Kate's voice from the other bed. "Dammit Kate, do you have to keep scaring the hell outta me like that?"

"It does have its comedy value," the former villainess replied with a shrug. Rather than receive a verbal response, however, Kate was greeted with Kim's hair towel connecting with her face. Pulling it away, she glared at Kim and tossed the towel at the back of one of the chairs by the table.

"So does that," Kim replied dryly.

"Okay, I deserved that," Kate conceded, shifting on the bed so she better see Kim. "But seriously, though, if you don't like this kind of music, you can change the channel; I'm not fussy."

"Believe it or not, this just happens to be one of my mother's—and my—favorite songs," Kim replied. "I remember when I was little she would put this record on while she was cleaning and whenever this song would come on, she'd start dancing along to it while she was dusting the bookshelves or whatever she was doing."

Kate snorted. "As straight-laced as your family can be—from what I've seen, anyway—I find it hard to picture your mother grooving to 'Talk Dirty to Me,'" she snickered.

"Hey, when I first realized what the song was talking about I had a hard time believing it, too," Kim replied.

"Well, sometimes it's easy to forget that your parents are human, too," the older woman rationalized as she got off the bed. "Now, provided you didn't use all the hot water, I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Oh, har-de-har-har," Kim quipped as Kate closed the bathroom door.

As she listened to the water start running, the redhead allowed her mind to ponder the relationship that appeared to be building between herself and her former nemesis. She could hardly believe that the woman she was sharing a hotel room with was the same woman that, just over a year ago, tried to defeat her both physically and psychologically. Granted, Kim more than made up for that by kicking her into a transmission tower and giving her a shock that would have barbecued any normal human, but Kate seemed willing to put that behind her.

_Just like sisters._

Kim gave an involuntary start when that unbidden phrase meandered through her mind; yet the more she thought about it, the more she thought it fitting. Sure, she and Monique were tight, but there was that extra little something that she could sense between herself and Kate; something that, over time, really could grow into a sister-like relationship—especially considering she'd already made the comparison once when Kate had been zapped with the Attitudinator (re-dubbed the _Reverse Polarizer,_ of course, but a rose by any other name…) and spent time hanging out with Kim and Ron as the saccharinely-sweet Miss Go. This time, however, the sentiment seemed that much more sincere, considering there were no addled brainwaves to take into consideration.

So focused was Kim on her train of thought that she didn't even notice when Kate emerged from the bathroom and flopped back onto the bed she'd claimed for the night. Running her fingers through her ebony locks, the former villainess turned to her roommate. "You don't have a brush or anything on you by any chance, do you?"

"Sorry, Sis," Kim replied absently.

Kate did a double-take, unsure whether she'd heard Kim correctly or not. "What did you just say?"

Kim blushed as her brain finally caught up to her mouth. "I just called you 'Sis,' didn't I?" she said sheepishly. "Sorry, Kate; just blame it on an overtired brain wandering aimlessly."

"Don't worry about it," Kate replied, waving her hand. They both remained silent for a moment before the malachite woman spoke again, albeit in a voice so small Kim almost didn't hear her. "Did you mean it?"

Kim was quiet as she considered her answer, making Kate think that maybe she was trying to find a way to say "no" diplomatically… yet when the teen finally spoke, Kate discovered just how wrong she was.

"Yeah," she said simply, nodding as she continued. "Yeah, I did. It'd crossed my mind before when you had your brainwaves flipped, but this is more… real than that was. I mean, I'm the oldest of three and the only girl; having somebody I can relate to on that level is something I always wanted but never had."

"What about that other chick you hang out and work with—Monique, is it?"

"Oh, we'll always be tight, but she's more of a best friend than a sister," Kim replied. "Maybe we're different enough that I can't see her that way—you and I are a lot more alike than Monique and I are."

Kate thought about that for a moment before finally nodding, despite the relative darkness of the room. "Makes sense, I guess," she said, the second half of her statement almost lost in a yawn. "Either way, I think it's time to grab some shut-eye. Goodnight, Kim."

"'Night, Kate."

_

* * *

_

_A/N: Okay, first of all there's something you may have noticed where I deviated a little bit from the series. Namely, Sensei and Yori are using honorifics other than "-san" when referring to Kim and Ron. All I did here was use the honorifics that they would be more likely to use instead of the generic "-san" suffix; in an effort to make their speech a bit more realistic._

_Other than that, all that's left to say is leave a review, get a response!_

_Cheers,  
Deuce_

_

* * *

_

* * *


	11. Chapter Ten

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series Kim Possible are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental._

_

* * *

A/N: Here it is; Chapter Ten for your reading and reviewing pleasure! Thanks to shana elmsford, CajunBear73, KP's Man, spectre666, Rabula Tasa, Razial, hibeekeith, Mack53B, screaming phoenix and Katsumara for reviewing since the posting of Chapter Nine, and thanks also to Comet Moon, captainkodak1, kp83, Sentinel103, keth1 and Mr. Wizard (along with some of those mentioned above) for reviewing my recently-posted oneshot, _Ron Stoppable: Husband, Father. _Your continued encouragement and feedback help me to continue every day._

_With that out of the way, on with the story!_

_**

* * *

CHAPTER TEN**_

The enigmatic man known as Hawk leaned back in his high-backed, leather office chair and put his hands behind his head, chewing on an unlit cigar. He was impressed with Peregrine's initiative in attacking Stoppable first; psychological warfare had never been one of her strong suits, but apparently she was diversifying her skill set… never a bad move, all things considered.

He'd just started having thoughts about calling his client to give him an update when his telephone rang. "Hawk," he said, picking it up on the second ring.

"Good evening, Mr. Hawk," the electronic voice said. Hawk wasn't surprised by this; his client wished to remain anonymous—for all he knew, he was speaking to Stephen Hawking himself (not that he believed he was)—and made use of the same type of voice synthesizer employed by the famous English physicist. "I've just seen the news reports of the incident in Denver; I assume that was your doing?"

"Indeed it was, sir," Hawk replied with pride. "I believe it was an inspired move, attacking the sidekick to break the target's spirit."

"I believe it was sheer idiocy," the voice replied, devoid of all emotion. "I told you I wanted Kim Possible alive and I don't believe that her boyfriend was the original target."

"What makes you say that?" Hawk said defensively.

"You may not be aware of it, but Ronald Stoppable is possessed with an ancient energy known as the Mystical Monkey Power," the robotic voice stated. "I've researched the footage of the night's events and, from what I've seen, Mr. Stoppable managed to move a total of thirty-five feet from the time the rifle was fired to the time he was struck with the bullet—a total of eight-tenths of one second. A rather impressive feat from a dead stop, no?"

"Impressive? That's damn near impossible!" Hawk exclaimed. "How do you know Stoppable wasn't the original target, anyway?"

"As I've said already, Mr. Stoppable moved thirty-five feet from the time the rifle was fired until it impacted him," the client repeated. "We both know that being thrown by a bullet's impact is nothing more than Hollywood theatrics, so how else would you explain this phenomenon?"

Hawk's normally suave demeanor started to crumble at his client's accusations. "Okay, so let's assume your theory about this whole 'Magic Ape' bullshit is accurate," he seethed, "how do you suggest we proceed from here?"

"Fortunately for you, my dear Hawk, I have no interest in Stoppable," the voice said, "whether he lives or dies is irrelevant to me. Miss Possible, however, is another matter entirely; I want her captured and brought to me… intact."

"I'll pass the word along to my operative in the field," the Phoenix leader replied flatly, shifting in his chair. "Now, before you go, could I ask you a question?"

"Of course you may," the voice intoned, "whether I will answer is, of course, up to me."

"Fair enough," Hawk conceded before continuing, completely dropping his calm façade. "Just what exactly is your interest in Kim Possible in the first place, and why the _fuck_ did I have to sacrifice three of my men for you?"

"You agreed to send your men on that mission for me, with the knowledge they would likely not be coming home alive," the client replied, "however I don't believe it was due to sub-par cyanide capsules; I believe it was your express orders to all members of your organization—death is preferable to imprisonment."

"I'll give you that one, but it still doesn't explain why you're so horny to get Kim Possible to yourself."

"Interesting choice of words, Hawk; although my desire to acquire Miss Possible is most certainly not sexual in nature," the Phoenix client said. Even though it was an antiquated voice-box doing the talking, Hawk was sure he could almost detect a note of humor in the voice as it spoke. "I merely wish to be the one that can finally claim, once and for all, that I've defeated her, wholly and completely."

"And you couldn't do that if she was dead?"

"If she were killed, then the credit would go to the one that had her blood on their hands," the voice replied. "I want her to admit to me, face-to-face, that I am the one who broke her and defeated her."

"So this is an ego trip," Hawk summarized. "Fair enough, however I'm afraid I'm going to have to add an insurance charge, payable upon delivery of Miss Possible to you."

"And if I refuse…?"

"Then you will witness the death of Kim Possible at the hands of one of my operatives… who will subsequently take the credit, leaving you with nothing more than a much emptier bank account. Of course," he added, "you would save the insurance policy's cost that way."

"How much is this 'insurance policy' you've decided to add to the original charge?"

"Same as the original contract price—one million."

There was a lengthy pause as—Hawk assumed—the client pondered this sudden surcharge. "Very well," the voice finally said, "I will have the funds ready, payable upon delivery of Miss Possible to me."

"Excellent," Hawk said, "I will keep you informed."

"See that you do," the voice intoned, followed by a sharp click indicating the end of the call.

Hawk exhaled deeply, replacing the telephone's handset in its cradle and picking it back up almost immediately, dialing a number from memory. His call was answered on the second ring. "Peregrine," the voice on the other end said crisply.

"Peregrine; Hawk here," he said shortly. "I just had a call from our client—apparently he wasn't as satisfied with our performance as I was."

"Care to elaborate on that, Boss?"

"He seems to believe that your original target was Miss Possible and called to reiterate the fact that he wants her alive," he replied with a hint of anger. "Was he correct in his assumption?"

Peregrine could be heard heaving a sigh before answering his question. "Yeah, he was," she admitted, "I wanted to take Possible down once and for all. I mean, she makes life a living hell for us without even trying; imagine what it'd be like if she did!"

"I understand your concern, Peregrine, and I can't say it's unfounded," Hawk said in an attempt to mollify her, "however our main concern right now is the client's wishes; in this case, the client wishes us to capture Possible and deliver her to him—alive and intact. I will advise you to make every effort to do so… but I have also advised our client that an insurance policy equal to the contract's original price now applies."

"Hey, for the extra cash I'll even wrap her up in a pretty pink bow," the mercenary quipped. "Okay, Boss; I'll make sure I get her in one piece… did the client say anything about a timeline?"

"No; apparently patience is one quality he possesses. Keep me informed on your progress."

"Will do," Peregrine replied, disconnecting the call. Hawk replaced the receiver in its cradle with a sigh and leaned back in his chair again, this time running his hands over his face. He was used to dealing with fussy clients, but this one was a creature all its own—one that he was beginning to regret ever having taken on, but the prospect of a double payday numbing the regret.

_

* * *

This is not good,_ Kim thought as she wrestled with her adversary. She couldn't remember anything of the mission up to this point, other than wherever they were was raining and dark. She assumed they must have been directly below a streetlight, for they were fighting in a cone of light; often moving to the edges but never stepping fully into the darkness.

She couldn't tell who her adversary was, other than it was definitely a woman—made evident by her almost skin-tight martial arts _gi—_and her skill matched (if not exceeded) her own. Every attack Kim tried, her opponent would dodge, parry or block with ease before going on the offensive herself. Kim was able to dodge or parry most of her attacks, but it was taking a much greater effort on the former cheerleader's part to do so.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Kim finally asked after having another of her attacks blocked.

Rather than speak, the woman Kim had been fighting merely stood in the center of the circle of light and faced the redhead. Reaching to the base of her neck, she pulled the mask over her head, revealing her face for the first time.

Kim blinked, disbelief etched on her face as she took in whom she'd been battling. "Yori…?"

"My apologies, Possible-chan," Yori bowed, an almost regretful tone in her voice, "but it is Ron-kun's destiny."

If Kim was confused before, Yori's cryptic statement merely helped to compound her confusion. "What are you talking about, Yori? What's Ron's destiny? Why are you fighting me?" she asked, hoping for clarification. Again, rather than speak, Yori motioned for her to follow, apparently no longer interested in fighting. Brushing a damp lock of hair out of her face, the teen hero followed the lithe ninja, not bothering to notice that the "streetlight" followed them, keeping them both illuminated.

They walked for some time until they came upon another area bathed in light, this one roughly double the size of the area the two women occupied. Kim was following close enough behind Yori that she couldn't see anything within the illuminated circle ahead of them until their own light merged with it and the ninja stepped aside. When she did, however, Kim's blood instantly ran cold.

Ron lay, wearing his mission clothes, on a stone table with ancient _kanji_ engraved down its sides. Each corner was adorned with a meticulously carved Buddha and the ends were curled, making the entire structure look like an unfurled scroll laying upside-down. Several candles were burning along the perimeter of the structure and Kim was almost sure she could smell some sort of incense—the same incense she'd smelled the last time she'd been to Yamanouchi.

It wasn't so much that Ron was laying on what looked for all intents and purposes to be an altar that worried Kim so much as it was his current state of health. Rather than looking like he did when she and Kate had been to visit him before, the towheaded teen looked more like he did when the paramedics had first gotten to him; his face was pale, sweat beaded on his forehead and his breathing was shallow and labored. Looking at his abdomen, she saw the gunshot wound looking as fresh as ever, blood soaking into his sweater in an ever-growing stain surrounding the hole.

Fighting back tears, Kim shoved Yori aside and knelt beside her beloved, taking his hand in hers and brushing the matted hair back from his forehead. "Ron?" she half-whispered, half-sobbed, begging for a response from him, "please, Ron, speak to me, baby."

"He cannot, Possible-chan."

Kim's head snapped up, searching out the owner of the new voice. Standing directly across from her, on the other side of the altar, was Ron's Sensei from Yamanouchi. As usual, between his long, flowing beard and mustache, facial expressions were all but obliterated. They didn't, however, keep her from seeing the melancholy look in his eyes. With tears pouring from her own eyes, she stood and faced the old man. "Sensei, what happened to Ron? Why isn't he still in the hospital?"

"Stoppable-sama has been tainted and is no longer worthy to carry the title of Tai-Xing Pe'Kwar master," Sensei intoned gravely, "and as such, must face the consequences."

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" she spat; her despair forgotten as anger enveloped her. "Every time you and your so-called ninja warriors need help and call on Ron, he's answered without question or complaint; if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't even _have_ a damn school!"

"While that may be true, Possible-chan, you have led him on a path of darkness from which there is no escape," Sensei replied ominously, "except for death."

"Okay, this is seriously whacked," Kim said, bringing her left arm up so she could call Wade, only her Kimmunicator wasn't on her wrist. "What the…?"

Kim didn't get a chance to finish her thought as Yori and Hirotaka (where he came from, Kim had no idea) took her by the arms and effectively restrained her. Sensei nodded approvingly at his charges before disappearing from sight behind the stone altar. She cast glances at both ninja that held her and saw the sorrow in their eyes, but their faces remained neutral as Sensei reappeared, this time holding the Lotus Blade in his hands, chanting in Japanese. She couldn't understand a word of what the old man was saying, all she knew was it couldn't be good.

"Yori, what's going on? What's Sensei saying?" Kim asked frantically, wrestling with her captors to no avail. Yori and Hirotaka both held her fast, neither of them saying anything as they observed their school's master. As he chanted, his voice started taking on a sinister quality, rising in pitch and fervor until he was almost bellowing.

"Ron! You've got to wake up!" Kim screamed, still struggling against the viselike grip of the ninja that held her. Sensei was still chanting with the Lotus Blade held above his head in a two-handed grip, the honed edge of the sword shining menacingly in the light. Again she screamed, hysterical tears pouring down her face. "Ron! For the love of God, wake up! Please… wake up..." She was fully crying now, only upright because of the unrelenting grasp of Yori and Hirotaka.

Sensei chose that moment to stop chanting and eyed Kim dangerously. "It is because of you that Stoppable-sama is here," he said, his voice booming. "Modern weapons bring dishonor to the Monkey Master; you have tainted that which we hold dear. This is the only way to return purity to the Mystical Monkey Power!"

Kim was openly crying now, wrestling all the harder against Yori and Hirotaka's grasp. Desperation was giving her strength she never knew she had; she didn't care how she would do it, all she knew was she had to get to Ron before Sensei had a chance to do what she knew he was about to do. With a final, Herculean effort, she managed to wrench her right arm free from Hirotaka's grasp, taking him off-guard. Pressing her advantage, she swiftly kicked him in the knee before swinging around and punching Yori square in the nose, freeing herself from the young woman's grasp. Before either of them could hope to re-capture the redhead, she was darting toward the altar just as Sensei finished his chant and brought the blade down.

"_NO!"_ she screamed, diving across Ron's prone body.

* * *

Kim awoke with a start, her scream dying in her throat as she crossed into the waking world from the hell of her nightmare. Sitting bolt upright in her bed, the teen drew her legs up and propped her elbows on her knees, resting her head in her hands. Breathing heavily, she stared at the blanket covering her knees as she attempted to calm herself, sweat pouring from her brow and eyes glistening with unshed tears as she mentally chided herself. _Get a grip on yourself, Possible! It was just a nightmare!_

_Or was it,_ her own voice countered in her mind. _Are you sure it wasn't a sense of premonition?_

_Of course not! Yamanouchi doesn't practice human—or any kind—of sacrifice!_

_Don't be so literal; perhaps the path you've chosen for yourself and your boyfriend will result in his demise._

Kim gave an involuntary shudder as that last thought crossed her mind. She'd never been one to believe in fortune-telling or dreams being anything more than a product of one's subconscious, but the suggestion that had just invaded her thoughts gave her pause. What _if,_ somewhere down the road, something might happen to either her or Ron? Could one of them stand to lose the other to some overly-ambitious megalomaniac? It had already come close to happening once—twice if one counted Lowerton—so the possibility most certainly did exist.

Thinking about the possible ramifications of her chosen life's path caused the tears she'd so far been able to quell to finally start falling. She knew that, whether she liked it or not, her life had just arrived at a crossroads and the time to choose was upon her. Once the current mission was completed, would she continue to take on these assignments, or was this Team Possible's swan song? By now the teen had started outright sobbing, grabbing a handful of the blankets and stuffing them in front of her face to muffle the sound, hoping not to disturb the green-skinned woman sleeping in the bed next to hers.

It didn't work, however; Kate had woken up when Kim jolted awake from her nightmare and chose to feign sleep in case the redhead decided she'd rather be alone. Once she heard Kim start sobbing, however, she decided it was time to quit acting and talk to her. "Kim?" she said tentatively, testing the younger woman's reception to conversation.

Sniffling, Kim pulled herself together a bit before answering. "Sorry, Kate; didn't mean to wake you up," she said demurely, her voice still thick with tears.

By now, Kate had turned on the lamp between their beds and sat up to face the teen. "Never mind that; what's wrong?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

"I'm okay," Kim replied, wiping the last of her tears away, "I just had a bad dream."

"And it's got you shook up," the mint-skinned woman retorted, "so tell me what's on your mind."

Sighing heavily, Kim rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow, facing her substitute partner. "I dreamt Ron was executed by his Sensei because of this whole sitch and the dishonor it brought on him," she said softly. "I know human sacrifice isn't something that ninja believe in, so obviously that would never happen; but what if there's a deeper meaning to it all?"

"Like what?"

"Have you ever watched the man you love fight for his life?" Kim countered, the tears threatening to spill again. "Nothing has ever scared me more in my life than the thought that Ron would end up coming home in a body bag. As soon as I saw him laying there with that bullet wound in his stomach, that's exactly the thought that crossed my mind."

"I can see how that would be pretty scary," Kate commented. "I've never been there myself, but that's not the issue; the fact that you have is eating at you, and I'm guessing that because of it, you're starting to question whether or not you can handle the possible consequences."

"Yeah," Kim nodded, swinging her legs out so she could sit on the edge of the bed and face the former villainess more directly. "Even though I love going on missions and having Ron beside me, I have to wonder if losing him is a price I'm willing to pay to keep doing them?"

Kate swung her own legs from the bed to mimic Kim's position, facing the teen. Leaning ahead with her elbows resting on her knees, she spoke in a measured voice. "Let's put the shoe on the other foot for a minute," she said, locking eyes with the younger woman. "Suppose _you_ were the one that took a bullet and Ron was the one sitting here with me right now—would I be having this same conversation?"

Kim thought about this for a moment before answering. "Not quite," she finally said, "he'd probably be asking where he went wrong and if you thought I would blame him for what happened… which would probably lead to him thinking he wasn't good enough to be my partner and that I wouldn't want him to go on missions with me anymore."

"Would you blame him and want him to quit going with you?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed indignantly. "He might be a bit of a goof and have a short attention span, but I know that when the chips are down, he's where I need him when I need him there."

"So if it happened the other way around, you would believe it was beyond his control and that he made every effort in his power to prevent it," the former villainess summarized.

"Exactly."

"Okay, how about this: if it _did_ happen the other way around, would you want to give it all up in favor of a quieter and safer lifestyle?"

"No."

"What if Ron told you he wanted you to stop taking on these missions because he didn't want to lose you?" Kate challenged, driving home the point she wanted to make, measuring Kim's reaction to her inquiry.

As expected, the teen's mouth shot open to offer a quick retort, but no sound escaped her lips as her mind processed her companion's challenge. Closing her mouth again, she pondered the question for some time before finally speaking again. "I think it would probably cause the two of us to sit down and have a long talk about it," she finally said with a rueful grin.

Kate nodded, Kim's reaction confirming the conclusion she'd already drawn. "Okay," she said, "let's try this: do you enjoy what you do?"

"I love what I do; it's who I am."

"Would you love what you do and call it who you are if Ron wasn't part of it?"

Again Kate's question gave Kim pause. _Would_ she enjoy going on missions and doing what she did as much if Ron wasn't with her? Even better, _could_ she do it without him? Once she asked herself these questions, the answer came as painfully obvious. "Not even close," she said with conviction. "I wouldn't—I _couldn't_ do it without him."

"So it's not so much who you are as who you _and_ Ron are."

Kim couldn't help but smile at Kate's statement. "Yeah," she said, "it is."

"One last question," the older woman said, wanting to finish her point, "you said in your valedictorian speech that, even though many people have told you to leave the world-saving to somebody else, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you did. Suppose, despite saying that, you did give it all up in order to keep Ron out of harm's way… what do you suppose would happen to your relationship?"

For the third time since they'd started talking, Kim fell silent as she considered Kate's question. What _would_ happen? When she considered the possibilities, the answer was, again, blatantly obvious. "I'd end up losing him," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks again. "I'd end up resenting him for making me give up something I love and he'd feel guilty about it… he'd probably leave me 'for my own good'."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"He'd say that leaving me would be the 'honorable' thing to do; if I wasn't worried about him, I could concentrate on the mission and get the job done," she replied, the tone of her voice suggesting she thought the idea ludicrous.

"And you'd probably both end up living miserable, lonely lives after that," Kate theorized. "Sure, you'd go numb to the pain after awhile; you might even meet somebody else, get married and have kids, but you would always have something missing out of your lives… each other."

Kim couldn't help but smile ruefully at the green-skinned woman's observations. "Ron's been my best friend for practically my whole life; I can't imagine him not being a part of the rest of it. Even if something happened that we did break up, I always assumed we'd be able to at least stay friends," she said softly, "but if that was what broke us up… I can't be so sure we would."

"I think if you broke up because you realized you were better off friends and just weren't compatible as a couple then your friendship _would_ survive," Kate said matter-of-factly, "but I think you're right; something like that breaking you up could very easily ruin your friendship, too."

Again, the younger woman smiled ruefully—this time with a chuckle—at her friend's comments. "How does somebody that claims to not have many social skills get so good at this kind of thing?"

"I might not be the leading authority on romance or how to make friends, but I did minor in psychology when I got my Childhood Development degree," she replied with a shrug. "Now, you feeling better?"

Kim nodded, swinging her legs back into bed. "Yeah, I am… thanks, Kate."

"No problem," she replied, turning the lamp off before crawling back under her own covers, "but now you owe me breakfast."

"Deal," the redhead laughed.

* * *

Ron was confused. Last thing he remembered was lying in a hospital bed in Denver and telling Kate to make sure Kim kept her head screwed on straight while he was laid up before he went to sleep; now, however, he was standing in the middle of an Oriental rock garden that looked vaguely familiar, wearing his usual red jersey and cargoes and feeling no signs of his injury. Looking around, he tried to find an identifiable landmark so he could discern his location, but to no avail; all he saw were non-descript trees and stone benches… and a familiar figure sitting on one of them, facing away from him.

"Sensei?" he said tentatively, hoping to get the man's attention.

Turning to look over his shoulder, the elderly man sitting on the bench saw Ron and smiled, rising to face his young charge. "Stoppable-sama; it is good to see you again," he said, bowing to the young man, who reciprocated. When they returned erect, he motioned to the bench with an outstretched hand. "Come, sit with me."

"It's good to see you, too, Sensei," the towheaded teen said warily as he sat down beside his mentor, "but where the heck are we, exactly? Last I remember I was in the hospital."

"Indeed you are," Sensei replied with a twinkle in his eye, "however right now, we are in your mind—which, I might add, has conjured a fairly accurate model of the Yamanouchi rock gardens, but for the location of the cherry tree; it resides in the opposite corner."

"My bad," Ron said sheepishly. "So what brings you into my brain, anyway? I know you don't normally just pop into somebody's head without a good reason."

"You are quite right, Stoppable-sama; I do not use this ability frivolously, however it seemed appropriate this time rather than risk appearing in your hospital room and have a staff member see me."

"Hang on a sec," Ron said, confusion etched on his face once again, "how did you know so fast? It's not like you watch the six o'clock news or anything."

"The Lotus Blade apprised us of the danger you were in; it reacted the moment your life was in peril."

"I didn't know it could do that."

"It has always been attuned to the Monkey Master's health," the old man replied. "It will not react if you have a cold or break your finger, but should you be placed in mortal peril, the Blade will react."

Blinking, Ron took a moment to absorb this information and to debate whether or not to ask the question that came along with it. Curiosity, however, got the better of him. "So it reacts if I get hurt really bad," he began hesitantly, "this might sound morbid but… what would happen if I got killed?"

"If you were to die of natural causes or honorably in battle; nothing," Sensei replied somberly. "If, however, your life were ended dishonorably, both the power of Tai Xing Pe'Kwar and the Lotus Blade would die along with you."

"It would?" Ron said incredulously.

"It most certainly would," Sensei confirmed, nodding. "Every true Master of Tai Xing Pe'Kwar up to now has died either of natural causes or honorably in battle with the exception of one… it was he who endowed the four idols before he perished."

"Pretty deep stuff," Ron muttered. After a moment of silence, another question came to mind. "What happens to the power if I die an honorable death?"

"It will return to the Lotus Blade, provided you do not endow another object with it first, but now is not the time to concern yourself with such matters," Sensei replied, wanting to change the subject. "The other reason I have come is to advise you that when you awaken, you will not be alone."

"I knew that; Kim and Kate are supposed to be here in the morning, and nurses are probably coming and going constantly."

"Indeed you are correct, Stoppable-sama, but they are not of whom I speak; Yori-chan will be in your room when you awaken."

"Yori?" Ron repeated. "What's she doing there… here… wherever?"

Sensei's beard twitched in amusement as he watched Ron be Ron. "As you are probably aware, Possible-san will most likely be concentrating on the task of seeking vengeance against those who would harm you; Yori-chan has been assigned the task of standing sentry while you mend."

"Oh, okay," Ron nodded, not questioning Sensei's logic… mostly because he felt the same way. "Should somebody tell Kim? She'll be in to see me in the morning with Kate."

"Perhaps you could do that yourself," Sensei suggested, "Yori-chan will remain concealed until you advise her it is safe to emerge."

"That works, too."

Nodding, Sensei stood and turned to face his young charge. "Very well then, Stoppable-sama, I will leave you to awaken now; I believe it is breaking dawn where you are."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Sensei," Ron said as he rose to stand facing the wise man, "I'd rather be expecting Yori than have her just pop out of a shadow in the corner."

"Which is why I decided to tell you now," Sensei replied, his flowing beard twitching as he grinned again. "Again, my wishes for your speedy recovery, Stoppable-sama," he said with a bow.

"Thanks, Sensei," Ron replied, returning the bow with his eyes closed. When he opened them, however, he was back in his hospital bed and painfully aware—no pun intended—of the wound in his abdomen again. Remembering his conversation with Sensei, he spoke to the room at large. "Yori, if you're here, come on out."

"Good morning, Ron-kun," the ninja's voice lilted from a corner of the room. Following her voice, Ron was able to see the lithe young woman's form emerge from the shadows as she continued to speak, a soft smile on her face. "I am guessing you have been in contact with Sensei?"

"Yeah, he told me you were coming," he confirmed with a slow nod. "How's things with you?"

"I am well, thank you," she said, bowing slightly before motioning to a chair beside his bed. "May I?"

"Of course," he replied with another nod.

Smiling her thanks, Yori took a seat in the chair, folding her hands in her lap. "It is good to see you are out of danger," she said softly. "Sensei and I were most distressed when the Lotus Blade warned us of your condition."

"Yeah, well, I think it was as much the 'Ron Factor' as anything that saved me," the young man replied with a sigh. "Considering where I was shot, I'm lucky it didn't rupture a kidney or my liver—among other things—and it's only because we were so close to a hospital that I didn't end up dying from peritonitis, according to the doctor."

"You are, indeed, most fortunate," she agreed, "but I believe there is more than your 'Ron Factor,' as you call it, at work."

Ron was about to ask for an explanation when a new voice interrupted him. "Good morning, Ron… and _Yori?"_ Kim said, her voice betraying her surprise as she spoke the young ninja's name.

Rising, Yori turned to face the newcomers standing in the doorway. "Good morning, Kim-chan, Shego-san," she said, bowing. "I apologize for my unannounced presence, but Sensei felt it prudent for me to, as you Americans say, _keep an eye_ on Ron-kun while he is injured."

"It's true, KP," Ron said, "Sensei visited me in a dream last night and told me."

"I wouldn't believe that if I heard it from anybody else," Kate muttered, rolling her eyes.

"That makes two of us," Kim acknowledged in an undertone. In a normal voice, she continued. "When did you get in, Yori?"

"I arrived here roughly fifteen minutes ago, just before Ron-kun woke up."

Kate did some quick mental math. "That's only twelve hours from the time Ron was shot until you got here!" she exclaimed incredulously. "How the hell did you get here from Yamanouchi so quick?"

"I cannot tell you everything; suffice to say we were informed quickly of Ron-kun's condition and Yamanouchi does have supersonic travel capabilities," Yori replied.

"Right," the mint-skinned woman drawled.

"She's telling the truth, Kate," Kim interjected before turning back to Yori. "Did Sensei say _why_ he felt Ron needed a babysitter?"

"Sensei felt that it would be prudent if I were here to stand guard over Ron-kun so you and Shego-san could concentrate on finding the _baka-ka_ that put him in this position," Yori replied, her face darkening at the mention of the culprit responsible for Ron's injury.

"The what?"

"_Stupid asshole,"_ Kate replied dryly, "I took a semester of Japanese in college… picked up all the bad words first and went from there."

"Why does that not surprise me?" the redhead muttered with a grin.

"Any leads yet?" Ron asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"Nothing yet; Global Justice is looking into it right now and Dr. Director said she would contact us the second they find anything out."

"What about Drakken and Dementor?"

Again, Kim shook her head. "Nothing there, either; Wade said they were being transported to Florence last night sometime, but I haven't heard anything since."

"Y'know, something about that just doesn't add up," Kate said, folding her arms across her chest. "I mean, yeah, Drakken said he wanted Kim dead, but the way he went about it doesn't add up… even without the grand schemes of global conquest, that wasn't exactly his style."

"Maybe GJ can offer some insight into that after they question him," Kim suggested with a shrug. Moving over to Ron's bed, she leaned down and kissed him tenderly. "Get some rest, baby; I'll give you a call later and see how you're doing."

"Okay, KP; good luck out there," he said, giving her a second kiss on the forehead.

"Thanks," she whispered, resting her forehead against his and gazing deep into his eyes. "I love you."

"Love you too, KP."

Rising to her full height, Kim let her hand linger on Ron's chest for a moment longer before turning to the other two women. "Okay, Kate, let's get moving; we've got a lot of ground to cover today." Shifting her gaze to Yori, she continued in a slightly softer voice. "Thanks for coming to look after him, Yori; we owe you one."

"It is my pleasure, my duty and my honor to ensure the Monkey Master's safety," Yori replied, bowing deeply, "neither you nor Ron-kun are indebted to me in any way."

Returning the bow, Kim couldn't help but smile at the young ninja before her. "Well, thank you anyway, regardless of whether we're indebted to you or not."

Yori said nothing; she just smiled and returned to her place in the shadows of the room as Kate looked on. "That's a nifty trick," the mint-skinned woman mused before turning to look at the young man still in the hospital bed. "And you," she said, pointing at him, "remember what I told you last night… I'm not making a career out of this."

Chuckling, Ron gave the former villainess a thumbs-up. "Trust me, Kate; I don't intend on making _this_ a career, either," he said, gesturing at himself.

"Good," she replied with a nod.

"Okay, Ron, we're off," Kim said, "I'll call you around lunchtime and see how you're doing."

"I'll be here," the towheaded teen said with a smirk. Rolling her eyes, Kim waved as she and Kate left, both chuckling.

* * *

In Florence, Colorado, four prison guards were in the process of escorting two prisoners restrained with handcuffs and leg irons to an interrogation room in the bowels of the facility, having just arrived via armed police escort from Denver. The two new inmates—Andrew Theodore Percy Lipsky and Johan Heinrich Demenz—were to be questioned by representatives from Global Justice for their actions the previous night before they were processed and entered into the prison's inmate database. Both men had been quiet ever since their apprehension by the Denver Police the evening before, exercising their Miranda rights to remain silent until in the presence of legal representation; something that anybody having prior dealings with Dr. Drakken would be thankful for.

The interrogation rooms that were being used were about what one would expect: cinder-block walls with a two-way mirror on one wall; a pair of naked fluorescent bulbs in a single fixture on the ten-foot ceiling, directly above a steel table and two steel chairs, all anchored to the floor. Each prisoner was led into one of the rooms and ordered to take a seat in one of the aforementioned chairs, their waist chains shackled to the legs of the chair they sat in to prevent them from getting up without permission. Once they were secured, one of the guards would stay positioned at the door while the other went to fetch the Global Justice agent they would be beginning with. For Lipsky, that agent turned out to be none other than Will Du—the first of his "administrative" assignments following his dressing-down by Dr. Director the evening before.

"Good morning, Mr. Lipsky," the agent said phlegmatically as he strode into the room purposefully. Not getting a response from the prisoner, he continued. "As you're likely aware, you are being charged for attempted first-degree murder and assault with a lethal weapon for your actions last night—on top of all previous charges you face. If you cooperate with us today, we may be able to strike a deal that will keep you off Death Row."

"You say that as if it makes a difference to me," Lipsky snarled, looking up at the agent across from him. "I've failed the most basic of objectives; what reason do I have to continue?"

"Now, now Mr. Lipsky; is there really any need to be so cynical?" Du chided, meeting the gaze of the mad scientist for the first time. He thought something was off—other than the lack of blue skin, of course—but ignored it as he continued. "Surely the fact that you haven't succeeded in taking over the world or murdering Kim Possible doesn't mean you're ready to end it all?"

"Why not?" he retorted through clenched teeth. "I've failed in every major endeavor I've ever undertaken; the closest I ever came was the Diablo project. I've tried blatant flamboyance; I've tried subterfuge and cunning… I've even tried the direct approach, and all to no avail. I'm done trying; just inject me now and let's be done with it."

"I'm afraid that's not quite how it works," Du replied, trying to hide his amusement at Lipsky's melodramatic monologue. "Should you be found guilty of the crimes you're charged with—which, given the path we're taking, is a pretty sure thing—then you'll be sentenced and placed on the waiting list for execution… assuming you're even given the death penalty. When—and _only_ when—your turn comes up, you will be executed via lethal injection. We don't use the Colorado justice system as a form of assisted suicide."

"A pity," Lipsky sighed wistfully.

For the next three hours Du continued to question both Lipsky and Demenz, switching with his partner—Agent Mark Dawson, who had started with Demenz—halfway through; the entire time unable to shake the feeling that something just wasn't quite right with either one of the would-be world dominators. Sitting in one of the interrogation rooms following the questioning, the so-called top agent was still poring over copies of the notes he and Dawson had taken, hoping to find a discrepancy that would back up his gut feelings.

Dawson entered the room at that moment, carrying more copies of the same notes that Du was reviewing. "I've gone over everything in here from top to bottom and, as far as I can tell, their stories match up," he said with a shrug, sitting down across from his superior officer.

"I'm not so sure it does, Agent Dawson," Du replied, his eyes never leaving the sheaf of paper in front of him. "Yes, on here it all looks good, but did anything feel—_off,_ so to speak—when you conducted your interrogations?"

"No sir; both Demenz and Lipsky seemed resigned to their fate, but other than that everything appeared normal."

"That's the problem," Du said with a sigh, finally looking up at Dawson. "They were _too_ willing to accept their fate… normally they would be defiant to the bitter end."

"Well, Miss Gogh did say in her statement that she feels Lipsky's mental health has become an issue; perhaps this was his last hurrah and he's finally just giving up?" the other agent ventured.

"Perhaps," Du conceded, "but there's also the fact that neither Lipsky nor Demenz are sporting their usual skin tones. While Demenz may have finally been cured of the jaundice he's long-suffered from, Lipsky's blue skin tone was the result of a freak laboratory accident and has proven irreversible."

"Yet both of the men we have in custody have normal, Caucasian skin tones," Dawson muttered, considering Du's statement for a moment. "I honestly don't know what to tell you, sir," he finally said with another shrug, "maybe it wasn't as irreversible as we thought? Biology's never been my strong point."

"Doubtful," Du replied, shaking his head. "He's tried several times; as have other dermatological specialists… he's stuck like that."

"Are we sure it isn't just makeup? I mean, it would make sense to disguise yourself if you're going into public like that… especially if you're out to kill somebody."

"Possible, but not likely."

"So what do we do now?"

Heaving a deep sigh, Global Justice's "top" agent retrieved his Blackberry from the clip on his belt. "We contact somebody that can clear this up; somebody that has extensive experience with these characters," he said, dialing a number.

Wade Load was tinkering with Kim's damaged battlesuit when a pop-up on one of his monitors informed him of a new hit on the Team Possible website. Taking it as a sign to take a break from the technologically-advanced garment (which was currently being about as cooperative as a cranky pack mule), the tech phenom went to his workstation and opened the notification. Eyes widening in surprise as he read, the teen genius had to re-read the message twice before it completely sank in, finally responding after the third reading.

"Good morning, Dr. Load; a punctual response as always," Du said when Wade was connected with him.

"Good morning, Will," Wade replied in his usual jovial manner, "what can I do for you?" He listened intently as Du described the events and situations that led to his misgivings about the prisoners, taking notes and forming theories in his mind on the fly. "Well, Drakken bled normal blood when Kim busted his nose, so we know they're not synthodrones," he said, scratching his chin, "and anytime Drakken's tried cloning, the results were so unstable that soda would disintegrate them… not to mention they weren't capable of autonomous thought."

"Correct," Du affirmed, "Lipsky's previous cloning attempts were only capable of following commands issued from a central console, or were pre-programmed upon their creation."

An idea suddenly struck the teenager as Du finished his thought. "I have a theory, but I'll need a doctor to do some tests to confirm it. Would it be possible to have somebody go in and get blood samples from them both?"

"I can have Global Justice medical personnel here to procure the blood samples and send them to our labs; the results would be ready in a matter of hours."

"Perfect," Wade replied with a nod. "I can't say for sure what they'd be looking for—my medical expertise is sorely lacking—but I'm pretty sure that if I'm right, the lab will be able to tell fairly easily."

"We will start the process at once; I will keep you apprised of any developments." With that, the Global Justice agent ended the connection, leaving Wade alone with his thoughts once again.

"Man, I hope I'm wrong, or else this thing just got a whole lot messier," he muttered to himself as he returned to Kim's battlesuit.

* * *

Agent Rhonda Bartlett ran her hands over her face and let out a prolonged sigh. Since eight o'clock that morning the agent had been piecing together every single morsel of information that Global Justice had gathered concerning the Phoenix Corporation and re-examining it with a fine-tooth comb in the hopes of finding a lead that had eluded past agents. With the clock rapidly approaching noon, she was still no closer to finding the lead as when she started. Deciding the time was right to stretch her legs and reset herself; the young woman locked her workstation and got up from her desk, stretching at the same time.

Fate, however, decided that now was not the time for Bartlett to leave her desk. Just as she was about to walk away from her station, one of her team members—a young man by the name of Perry Jensen—came striding purposefully toward her, carrying a thick Manila folder. "Rhonda, I think you'd better take a look at this," he said, handing the folder to his superior.

"Thanks, Perry," she said with a wan smile, slumping back into her chair. Opening the folder, she studied the first page of its contents, her eyes quickly narrowing as she absorbed the information. Aware that the other agent hadn't left yet, she looked up at him. "Where did you find this?" she asked, her mind refocused by the new information.

"It was in the archives; Serge and I decided to go through them and see if we could find anything of interest," Jensen replied with a shrug.

Bartlett had continued to flip through the folder as her teammate answered her question. Looking back up at him, she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Great work, Perry," she said, sitting back down at her desk, "I think this is the lead we were looking for."

"I kinda thought so, but I figured you might want to take a look at it first."

"Well, you thought right," she said as she picked up the phone. "I'm going to pass this on to Dr. Director; why don't you round up the gang and break for lunch? I'll join you in the commissary when I'm off the phone."

"Sure thing, Rhonda," Jensen said with a wave.

Bartlett, however, was already turned back to her desk and unlocking her workstation; the telephone receiver tucked between her ear and shoulder as she waited for her call to be answered. On the fourth ring, it was. "Director," the crisp voice said.

"Doctor; Rhonda Bartlett here," the young agent said. "You said you wanted me to advise you of any leads we came across in the Phoenix case? Well, I think we've got one."

"I'll be right there," Director said, hanging up. Less than five minutes later, she was striding purposefully to Bartlett's desk. "What have you got for me?" she said without preamble.

"Perry and Serge were digging around the archives, looking for clues when they dug this up," Bartlett replied, passing Director the folder. "I think it's the lead we've been looking for."

Director skimmed the first couple of pages within the folder, a glimmer of hope appearing in her eye. "I think you might be on to something," she finally said, returning to the first page. "I vaguely remember this from several years ago, but never would have made the connection if I wasn't looking at this directly."

"At least it gives us a starting point," Bartlett said, already searching for more recent data on her workstation.

"I agree," Director said, putting the folder back on the young agent's desk. "Go with it and keep me advised of your progress."

"Yes sir," Bartlett replied with a nod. Picking up the folder again, she flipped it open to the first page and re-read it. According to the documentation in her hands, a former business mogul—and former US Marine—by the name of Harland "Hawk" Bachman had made a substantial fortune in the import/export trade and subsequently disappeared. As her online research attested, Bachman's firm—Hawk Shipping—still existed and was currently among the top five import and export firms along the US West Coast; with steady customers all along the Pacific coast of the Americas, Australia, Hong Kong, Japan and Taiwan.

Bachman, however, sold off his share of the company in 1999 and disappeared. In early 2001, a business entity represented solely by lawyers purchased a decommissioned airfield and adjacent properties along the Colorado-New Mexico border for a tidy sum. It was rumored that Bachman was the mastermind behind the business entity, but it was never proven. Whenever any legal or financial business had to be attended to, the entity—identified only by its state business number—would be represented by accountants and/or lawyers and _never_ on the company's property. Digging a little deeper, Bartlett found that this new phantom company in southern Colorado was also listed as an import/export business, albeit this time specializing in air and ground freight rather than seafaring cargo.

Acting on a hunch, Bartlett did a little more digging and finally managed to track down a recent inventory of the company's assets. Aside from the land and the buildings on it, it appeared that the corporate assets were actually fairly sparse for a shipping firm… a little _too_ sparse in the young agent's opinion.

"Hey Rhonda, I thought you were gonna meet us for lunch?"

Spinning in her seat, Bartlett looked up to see the other four members of her team standing behind her workstation and looking at her with concern. Jensen was in the forefront—it was his voice she'd heard—and he had a Styrofoam takeout container in his hand, which he passed over to her. "We knew you'd end up working through your lunch, so we figured we'd at least bring you something to eat."

"Thanks guys," she said gratefully, accepting the container from Jensen. "Having a team like you is what makes my job that much easier."

"That's what we're here for," Chrissy Cameron, the unit's youngest member said with a smile.

"I really appreciate it," Bartlett replied, returning Cameron's smile with one of her own before addressing the group as a whole. "Turns out we—or Perry and Serge, more accurately—might have struck gold; if we can find a way to link that stuff you two found to Phoenix, we've got all we need to go in and take them down… that's what I've been working on all this time."

"You could have called us back in, y'know," Serge Cartier said in his Quebec accent. "We would've come up and helped you slog through this stuff."

"No, you guys earned a break; I wasn't gonna take that from you."

"Oh, and you haven't earned a break, Rhonda?" a new voice broke in. All five heads turned to see Dr. Director approaching them. "I decided to come back and see how you were making out and happened to overhear part of your conversation; did you actually work through your planned lunch break?"

"Yeah, I did," Bartlett replied with a nod. "I got absorbed into what I was doing and lost track of time."

"Well, un-absorb yourself long enough to eat and refresh your mind," Director replied sternly, yet with a twinkle in her eye. "That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Bartlett replied with a smirk. Picking up the takeout container Perry had given her, she rose from her seat and looked at her team. "Keep looking around for anything else you can find on Phoenix; I'll be back in an hour."

"We're on it," Jensen said. With that, the four members of Bartlett's team all scattered to their respective workstations to continue their search for pertinent information, while Bartlett retired to the commissary to eat her late lunch.

_

* * *

A/N: I thought about continuing on, but decided that this would be a good place to stop. Things are starting to come together now; I'm guessing there's probably another three or four chapters to go before everything gets sewn up… then again, I've underestimated before (I never expected this story to get to the 75,000 word mark in MS Word, but here we are and still going strong)._

_I do have to give an extra nod to KP's Man; this chapter was giving me a hard time for quite awhile when he sent me a PM and offered a suggestion. When I read it, I realized that the answer to my conundrum was in front of my face the whole time; since then, the rest of the chapter flowed fairly quickly. I just hope everybody else out there is as satisfied as I am with it._

_As always; leave a review, get a response!_

_Cheers,_

_Deuce_


	12. Chapter Eleven

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series Kim Possible are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters herein to any person or character, real or fictional (those mentioned above notwithstanding), living or dead, is strictly coincidental._

_

* * *

A/N: Faster than a speeding bullet (for me, anyway), here's Chapter Eleven for your reading and reviewing pleasure! Not much going on in this one; a little bit of fluff and some downtime before it hits the fan._

_As always, my thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter—Katsumara, screaming phoenix, KP's Man, CajunBear73, shana elmsford and jkrust78—and to all those who've added it to their favorites or have just stopped by for a read. Having an audience is the fuel that keeps the creative fires burning._

_With that out of the way, on with the story!_

_**

* * *

CHAPTER ELEVEN**_

"Stop here for a minute."

"What for?" Kate asked as she steered the still-borrowed Crown Vic into the Middleton Mall parking lot. She and Kim had just returned from Denver and were on their way to the Possible home when the teen pointed at the mall when it came into sight.

"We need to go shopping again," Kim replied with a grin as the former villainess expertly swung the big car into a parking space. "You'll need something to wear when it's time to get to work, and I don't think you'll want to wear what you've got on."

"Lemme guess; Club Banana again?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

"You know it," the redhead replied cheerily, stepping out of the car.

Kate couldn't help but shake her head with a bemused grin as she shut the engine off and climbed out, stuffing the keys in her pocket as she walked alongside the former cheerleader to the entrance of the shopping center. "You just wanted another excuse to go shopping," the mint-skinned woman jibed, giving her companion a light elbow in the side.

"Who needs an excuse?" the younger woman retorted flippantly. "I just thought you might like the chance to add to your wardrobe."

"Eh, what the hell," Kate shrugged, "gives us something to do for a little bit, anyway."

By this point the two women had arrived at the entrance to Club Banana, where Monique was going over an inventory form at the customer service desk, a preoccupied expression on her face. Barely holding back an exasperated sigh when the door sensor chimed, the African-American woman looked up to welcome the newcomers with the canned Club Banana greeting. "Welcome to Club Banana, may I… _Kim!"_ At once her demeanor changed as she darted from behind the cash registers to embrace her friend. "God, am I glad to see you! How's Ron doing?" she asked, the concern etched on her face.

"He's okay," Kim giggled as Monique released her from her grasp. "He woke up last night while we were visiting him; he's gonna be sore for awhile, but he should be fine."

"Thank God," the young fashion guru breathed, relief evident on her face. "So what brings you two here today?"

"We were just on our way back from Denver and I figured we'd stop in so Kate could get a start on a new wardrobe," the redhead replied, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at her companion.

"Got it," Monique nodded before turning to the mint-skinned woman. "Do you have anything to work with, or are we starting from scratch?"

"Other than this," she replied, motioning to her current attire, "I've got pretty much bupkus; better assume we're starting from scratch."

"Oh, I love this," the dark-skinned woman crowed, rubbing her hands together in glee as she started perusing the store inventory for articles to start with while Kim and Kate both looked on; the former with a knowing smirk, the latter an awed gaze.

"She always like this?" the former villainess quipped without taking her eyes off the whirlwind that was Monique.

"This is nothin'," Kim replied nonchalantly. "You should see her when she's _really_ excited."

"Oh, Lord," the older woman groaned softly as she put a hand to her forehead.

"Here's something to start with," Monique said as she returned. "I wasn't sure whether you preferred sleeves or not, so there's a couple of three-quarter sleeve shirts and a couple of cap-sleeve T-shirts. I also brought you a couple of different style khakis to try and a pair of denim Capri's; try this stuff on and let me know what you think and we can go from there." Unsure of what else to say, Kate merely took the armload of clothes from the young woman with a shrug and proceeded to a fitting room, leaving the two teens to wait for her in the store proper.

Once the raven-haired vixen was safely inside the fitting room, Kim turned to her best female friend with a grin. "Moni, I need a favor," she said, leaning closer.

"Anything for my BFF," Monique replied. Listening to her friend's request, the fashion maven slowly nodded, her mouth spreading into a broad smile. "Yeah, I can do that," she said once Kim had finished talking, "I can probably have it ready by tomorrow morning."

"You're the best, Monique," Kim said gratefully, giving her friend a one-armed hug.

"I know," the other young woman replied with a smug expression.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to gloat?" Kate asked as she emerged from the fitting room, wearing the first ensemble Monique had picked out for her—a mint-green, cap-sleeve T-shirt and a pair of light khakis.

"It's not gloating when you know you're good," Monique retorted as she studied her handiwork. "Not bad at all; those colors go good with your… _unique_ skin tone."

"I have to admit, you are good at this stuff," the former villainess conceded, looking at herself in a mirror mounted on a support column. "But, then again, when you're working with perfection, it's hard to screw up," she added, preening haughtily with a glint of laughter in her eyes.

"Stand back, Mo, I think Kate's head's gonna pop," Kim deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest as she shot a look at her friend.

"Please, not in the store; I don't wanna have to clean that mess up," the darker woman pleaded melodramatically.

"Hey, you said it yourself; 'it ain't gloating when you know you're good'," Kate retorted, striking a pose with arms akimbo, one hip thrust out, "and it doesn't get much better than this."

"I have to admit, you're filling that T-shirt out better than I ever could," Kim acquiesced with a shrug, "and your biceps and abs have more definition than mine do… you're right, Kate; it doesn't get much better than that."

"I wasn't always in this kind of shape," the former villainess said, dropping her conceited air. "When I was eighteen, I was still all knees and elbows; you've already got tone in your arms and legs and, if I remember right, you've got a six-pack already. I always had a firm stomach, but I never got a six-pack until I was in my twenties."

"Were you saving the world, cheerleading competitively and constantly practicing sixteen different styles of kung-fu when you were in high school, though?"

"Yes to the first, no to the rest."

"That explains that, then," the redhead said with another shrug, "you weren't doing as much to build your muscle tone as I do."

"Girl, if I could have half the tone you've got, I'd be happy," Monique commented. "Instead of dwelling on what you don't have, think about what you've got—a killer body without any soft spots, great hair, perfect teeth and a flawless complexion."

"But…" Kim stammered lamely, motioning at her torso.

"Let me tell you something right now, Princess," Kate said, using the nickname to get the younger woman's attention, "the boys might go gaga over bigger puppies, but if you don't strap 'em in _real_ good, they tend to get in the way during a fight. Truth be told, I'd rather have your chest than mine, considering the line of work I'm in… or was in, anyway."

"And do you really think Ron cares one way or the other what bra size you wear—or if you even _need_ to wear a bra?" Monique added, bringing a blush to the teen hero's cheeks.

"He… he actually told me he prefers 'smaller' women," she mumbled, the flush on her cheeks deepening.

"So what do you have to complain about?" the young fashion maven retorted. "You have the muscle tone that most women would kill for, a man that loves you just the way you are and worships the ground you walk on and more talent in your big toe than most people have in their entire bodies!"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"Exactly," Monique said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Now, let's get back to the reason you came here in the first place—getting Green here some new duds."

With that, the three women spent the next forty-five minutes picking out and trying on different items of clothing (Monique would have to leave them from time to time to wait on other customers). Kim, in better spirits than when their earlier discussion had started, got into the act and started picking out items for herself to try on; both going into the fitting rooms at the same time and coming out with different outfits for each other to critique, Monique adding her own input when she was available.

Finally, about an hour and a half after they first arrived at the mall, Kim and Kate left; the former villainess dropping the teen off at her home before returning to Global Justice to take care of the business Dr. Director had mentioned the day before and to return the borrowed car. Waving to the mint-skinned woman, Kim watched her drive away before entering the house, calling out as she walked through the front door. "Hello? Anybody home?" she called, pushing the door shut behind her and removing her boots before continuing through the house. Receiving no answer, she soon deduced she was the only one home, so she made her way to her bedroom and kicked the trap door shut behind her, stopping only long enough to lock it.

With a sigh, the teen hero dropped the bag containing her new purchases on the bed before peeling her T-shirt over her head and tossing it into the clothes hamper beside her privacy screen. Removing the brown leather utility belt/pouch combination, she placed those on the bed before removing her black slacks, throwing them into the hamper; her socks, bra and underwear soon followed. Grabbing a fluffy pink towel from the shelf beside her bed, she was about to go to her bathroom for a shower—or a long, hot bath; she hadn't decided yet—when she had a sudden thought. Picking up her telephone extension, she quickly dialed her mother's office number at Middleton General.

"Doctor Possible," the elder redhead's voice said after the second ring.

"Hey Mom," Kim said.

"Kimmie!" Anne exclaimed, the professional tone gone from her voice. "Where are you?"

"Home," the teen replied, "Kate just dropped me off a few minutes ago; I just wanted to call and let you know I'm home… at least, until either Wade or GJ call and send me out again."

"Well, you'll be glad to know you've got the house to yourself for awhile," Anne said. "You've had a pretty hectic time in the last eighteen hours and I'm sure you would like to just relax."

"Yeah, I was just about to go take a shower when I thought I should call you first."

"I'm glad you did call; I just got word from Ron's family doctor that they're getting ready to transfer him from Denver to here. He said he should be moved and in a room here by dinnertime tonight."

"Spankin'!" Kim exulted, a beaming smile on her face.

"I thought you'd like that," the neurosurgeon said, the smile evident in her voice. "I'm gonna let you go now, Kimmie; you just go relax for awhile and take your shower. Your father's at work and the boys went with him today; apparently something exciting is going on and he thought the boys would like to be there for it. He said they should be home around six or so."

"What about you?"

"I'll be getting out of here around four or so but I have an appointment at the salon at four-thirty, so I won't be getting home until about the same time as your father."

"Okay, Mom, I'll talk to you when you get home tonight. Love you."

"Love you too, Kimmie; 'bye."

Disconnecting the call, Kim tossed the cordless handset onto the bed with her utility belt and turned to head for the bathroom, her towel slung over her shoulder. Stopping after a couple of steps, she decided to take advantage of the otherwise-empty house by plugging her iPod into her stereo system and turning it on, setting the volume so she could hear it from the bathroom and over the sound of running water before continuing to her original destination.

As she approached the bathroom, her reflection in the full-length mirror mounted on the door gave her pause. Dropping her towel on the floor beside her, the young woman studied herself in the reflective surface a bit more closely than she normally would. It wasn't the first time she'd passed the mirror naked on the way to take a shower, but Kate's statements from earlier in the day were still fresh in her mind, making her take a bit more notice than usual.

Starting at her feet, Kim's gaze slowly studied the definition and tone of the muscles in her calves and thighs. Having been cheerleading and studying martial arts since she was twelve—her first cheer coach suggested taking up a martial art to improve balance and stamina—gave her the shapely legs that made most men (and some women) drool; making her legs easily her favorite feature (aside from her naturally thick, red hair).

Continuing up from her thighs to her abdomen, she paused again at the washboard stomach she sported. She'd never really given the fact she had a fully-defined six-pack any previous thought, but after Kate's comments that morning she came to realize just how rare it was for an eighteen-year-old woman to have such definition without being waif-thin. She was a petite woman, of that there was no question, but nobody would ever mistake the teen as underweight or suffering any sort of eating disorder; her frame one that exuded strength and physical health.

While she studied her abdominal muscles, her eyes involuntarily flickered slightly lower, prompting an almost embarrassed giggle from the former cheerleader, despite her current solitude. A flush appeared on her cheeks as she briefly remembered the conversation—a slightly uncomfortable one—between herself and her swim team captain during her sophomore year. _I still can't believe she asked me that,_ she thought, shaking her head with another giggle. At the time the answer to the older girl had been no, but after a trip to the aesthetician (which was preceded by a talk with her mother), that had changed… permanently, as her reflection would attest to (considering she'd quit the swim team once she started saving the world).

Resuming her inspection, Kim worked her gaze up to her arms. Again, the first thing she noticed about herself was the amount of muscle tone she had. Her biceps and triceps were all well-defined, and when she held her arms to her sides there was no sign of "turkey wattle" on the underside of her arm; the skin and muscle stretched taut along the entire length—another point of pride for the young heroine. She had a lean, muscular and toned body without being bulky like a bodybuilder; a balance that she strived for and was proud of.

Turning ninety degrees, she examined her profile with the same scrutiny as she had her front. Standing on her tiptoes, she smiled in satisfaction at how the simple action defined her long, shapely calf muscles. Ron had even commented on several occasions how "beautilicious" her legs were when she wore a skirt or shorts and heels… which, of course, prompted her to do it more often on their dates.

Sighing, her eyes moved to the one part of her profile that she couldn't help but be self-conscious about. She knew she was destined to have a small bust; her mother had told her when she first hit puberty that she didn't start wearing a bra until she was almost sixteen and only went to a C-cup when she got pregnant for Kim. Nonetheless, the younger redhead couldn't help but wish sometimes that she'd been given just a _little_ bit more in that department; wearing a B-cup would be more than enough to satisfy her.

With another sigh, Kim picked up her towel and proceeded into the bathroom. Hanging the towel over a rack mounted on the wall, she turned to the bathtub/shower combo and started the water, testing the temperature with her hand and adjusting it until it met her approval, at which point she switched the water's flow from the tap to the shower head. Stepping under the stream and pulling the curtain shut behind her, she stood for a few minutes and just let the slightly-less-than-scalding hot water flow over her, washing away her minor aches and pains—most of which were a direct result of the rock-hard mattress she'd slept on the night before and the trip back from Denver.

Finally, she stuck her head under the flow and started the process of wetting down and washing her auburn mane. Because it was so thick—an uncommon trait amongst redheads—it took her several minutes before she had all of it wet enough to wash; it would take another several minutes for her to actually properly shampoo, rinse and condition it. She was thankful as she picked up her strawberry-scented shampoo that she was using her own hair and body care products this time, rather than the generic brands she used in the hotel the night before.

Once she'd finished with her hair, she stood again under the shower's hot stream for a moment and let the water wash over her, massaging her body before she continued. Turning to put her back under the direct spray, she picked up her body wash and its corresponding pouffe, again thankful to be using her own moisturizing product rather than the cheap soap from the hotel. Placing a generous dollop of the thick liquid on the fluffy applicator, she turned back into the shower's stream and set to the task of washing. As her hands ran over her body, applying the soap, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander. Before long, her thoughts meandered to her injured boyfriend and how much she would enjoy having him be the one washing her; not to mention how much she would enjoy returning the favor. They'd never been "all the way" before—in fact, Kim had never seen Ron in anything less than boxers or swim trunks and Ron had only seen her topless on two occasions—but that didn't mean she hadn't thought about it.

Finishing with the washing process, Kim rinsed the remaining soap from the pouffe and hung it on the rack suspended under the showerhead. As she started rinsing the soap from her body, she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to imagine it were Ron's strong, yet gentle hands that were on her skin, gently caressing her and rinsing the remnants of the body wash from her and not her own.

She knew what his hands could do to her—especially when they were in contact with her skin, like when he would give her a back rub when she had her bikini top or a tank top on—and just the thought sent chills of pleasure up her spine, as her left hand discovered when it brushed over one of the sensitive tips, hardened by the shiver that had coursed through her. Moaning softly—much the same reaction as she would have when Ron rubbed her shoulders or back—her left hand remained there as she slowly ran her right hand down her stomach… slowly approaching the one part of her body that Ron had never touched nor seen; the one part that had never craved her man's touch more than it did at that particular moment.

A soft sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as her fingers passed over the smooth, sensitive skin. While she was painfully aware that she was alone; in her mind it was Ron's fingers and not her own much smaller ones that were caressing her and giving her pleasure. Leaning against the far wall of the shower to support herself, she could almost feel Ron's strong, yet narrow chest against her bare back instead of the cold plastic of the tub-surround. She could almost hear his breathing, shallow and ragged beside her ear as she continued her ministrations.

"Oh, baby," she moaned softly, slowly slipping down to a sitting position as her knees weakened; in her mind, it was her lover's arms gently easing her to sit on the tub floor before sitting behind her and returning to the task at hand. With the water spraying over her and adding to the overall erotic atmosphere, it didn't take long for the young woman's desire to hit its crescendo; her body arching into the spray of water that continued to fall on her, enhancing the sensations. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she performed a final quick rinse before shutting the shower off and stepping out to towel off, her face still slightly flushed.

Returning to the bedroom proper after toweling off and blow-drying her hair, Kim turned the stereo down—which, ironically, was playing "Could it Be," prompting a smile to grace the young woman's face—and sat down on the bed. Picking up the telephone handset from where she'd tossed it, she looked at the display to see if she'd missed any calls. Finding none, she did the same with the Kimmunicator, with the same result.

A sudden yawn came over her; a result of her less-than-satisfactory sleep the night before combined with her recent activities in the shower. Deciding that a nap would probably be a good idea, she cleared the various items from where she'd placed them on the bed. Reaching for the old jersey of Ron's that she'd laid claim to, she was about to put it on before deciding against it, tossing the old garment over the back of her computer chair and slipping under the covers as she was. It wasn't something she did every time she got into bed, but it was becoming more and more frequent; she was quickly finding she slept better that way. Not quite as well as she did when Ron was with her, but it helped, nonetheless.

She'd just settled in when she remembered she told Ron she would call him around lunchtime. Grabbing the telephone from the end table, she dialed the number for St. Joseph's and was soon connected to her boyfriend's room.

"Hello?" he said. Kim's face fell; she could hear in his voice that he was still in pain.

"Hey baby," she said softly, "how you feeling?"

"Hey, KP," he replied, the smile evident in his voice. "Still sore, but I'm getting there. What're you doing?"

"Kate just dropped me off home about an hour ago; we went shopping for a little bit when we got back to Middleton. I think she's gone back to GJ to start getting her stuff in order so she can go find a place of her own."

"Cool; any news on anything yet?" he asked.

"Not on the case front, but Mom told me something when I was talking to her earlier," she said coyly.

"Oh, she heard, huh? Yeah, the doc was in a little while ago and said they'd be shipping me out soon. I should be at Middleton General about dinnertime tonight."

"Yeah, that's what Mom said," Kim affirmed. "I'll be so glad to have you back here in town."

"You and me both," the towheaded teen agreed. "Yori's already called and got a rental car lined up; she said she's gonna follow the ambulance that's bringing me to Middleton, make sure nothing happens to me on the way."

"Good," Kim said, fighting another yawn.

"Tired, KP?"

Kim couldn't help but giggle in spite of herself. Even when she tried to hide something from him, Ron would always pick up on it; sometimes she thought he knew her better than she knew herself. "Yeah, I didn't sleep the best last night," she replied, not telling him the other reason for her bout of fatigue. "I was just about to take a nap when I remembered to call you."

"Okay, Kim; I'll let you go so you can take your snooze. I'll call your mom when I'm in my room so she can tell you where to find me," he said. "Sleep tight, hon."

"Thanks, baby; see you when you get back to town," she said, not even bothering to hide the yawn this time. "I love you."

"Love you too, KP," he said, disconnecting the call.

Replacing the handset on the nightstand, Kim snuggled back down into her pillows on what she was starting to consider "her" side. Even though most nights she slept alone in the queen-sized bed, after having Ron with her for a couple of nights quickly started a habit that she hoped would come in handy in the near future; the need to stay to one side of the bed. Adjusting the covers to ensure her dignity should her mother—or worse, her brothers—happen to come up to wake her, the young heroine drifted off with thoughts of the man she loved holding her in his arms.

* * *

"Welcome back, Miss Gogh; I see you've been shopping."

Kate shrugged at Betty Director as she opened the door to her temporary lodgings. "Yeah, well Kim decided we should stop at the mall before we came home… as amazing a woman as she is, in some ways she's just like any other eighteen-year-old I've ever met—including me when I was eighteen."

"I have to admit, I was a bit of a shopaholic in my teenage years, as well," Director concurred, entering the apartment behind Kate. "Actually, you two taking the time to do that was probably a good idea; it offered both of you a temporary distraction from hectic goings-on of the last day or so."

"Yeah, I didn't realize until we got there just how much I could use it," the mint-skinned woman said, dropping her purchases on the couch. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you; I just came by to inform you that until you are able to procure more permanent living and transportation arrangements, you are free to continue using this apartment and the car you brought back from Denver," the one-eyed woman said with a smile, still standing near the doorway.

"Thanks," the younger woman replied with a nod of gratitude as she took a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

Director took a deep breath, almost as if she didn't want to continue. "I've also come to ask you about one of your former employer's failed projects—_two_ of them, actually."

"Gonna have to be a little more specific there, Doc; Dr. D had a shit-load of failed projects over the years," Kate quipped as she lit a cigarette.

"Clones and Synthodrone nine-oh-one."

"Oh, fuck," Kate groaned, slumping heavily onto a portion of couch not occupied by Club Banana bags. "Please tell me he wasn't at it again before we nailed him?"

Rather than answer Kate's question directly, the GJ administrator countered with a question of her own. "Did you notice anything unusual about Drakken last night?"

"Other than the fact he did everything he could to look like he was plain ol' Drew Lipsky again? Not really," the raven-haired vixen replied with a shrug, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"You're on the right track," Director said darkly. "Following our interrogation of both Lipsky and Demenz this morning, Agent Du felt something was amiss, so he contacted Kim's back-end support for guidance."

"You mean Wade?"

"Yeah," Director nodded, some of her professionalism slipping by the wayside. "Wade suggested running blood tests on both of them, so we brought in our medical team and got samples from them immediately and sent them to our own medical research lab in Denver; the results were just emailed to me before I came down to see you."

"Do I want to know what you found out?" Kate asked with a hint of dread in her voice.

"Probably not, but I'm gonna tell you anyway," Director replied grimly. "Those weren't Demenz and Lipsky."

"Jesus Christ Almighty," the former villainess muttered in a voice devoid of emotion. Crushing the butt of her cigarette in an ashtray, she looked back up at her visitor. "Who were they?"

"Kate, you're not gonna like the answer," Director warned.

"Don't care; who were they?"

Breathing a heavy sigh, Director finally answered the mint-skinned woman's question. "They were highly-advanced synthodrones, Kate; the likes of which make nine-oh-one look like a sixth-grade science project."

For several moments, Kate sat and said nothing; her face a mask devoid of emotion. Leaning back, deeper into her seat on the couch, she ran a hand through her raven locks before looking back up at her visitor. "They bled, Betty," she said in a monotone, "when I punched Drew in the face and broke his nose, there was fucking _blood_ on my hand! How in the flying _fuck _could they be synthodrones?"

"We're working on that," Director said, keeping her voice as calm as she could, trying to bring Kate down from the rage that she could see building in the younger woman. "In the meantime, what I need to know is if you had any knowledge of Lipsky continuing his synthodrone research after the failure of the Diablo incident?"

"No," Kate replied, shaking her head. "After we got out of prison following that disaster of a plan, Drakken went on to other things. He still used his standard synthodrones for grunt work and guards, but they were the faceless things that he kept around before he ever dreamt Eric up."

"There was no mention of a new synthodrone formula in the plans you found before you deserted him?"

"Trust me; if I knew he was trying to make human-like synthodrones, I would've killed him right there myself," she snarled, her former persona making a brief appearance. "That was one of the things he and I had a long discussion about after we teamed back up—no more Eric plans and no more using synthodrones for anything more than mindless muscle."

"Apparently your discussions didn't sink in," Director quipped dryly.

"I'm not sure what pisses me off more; the fact that he's still out there or the fact I wasted a perfectly good punch in the nose on a Drakken synthodrone," the green-skinned woman said with a sigh. "So what's the plan now?"

"Right now we're concentrating on the Phoenix Corporation," Director admitted. "One of my teams has just hit on a lead that may bring us right to them; they're working on that as we speak. As for Lipsky and Demenz, we don't have much to go on right now; we're hoping they'll do something to bring themselves back into the open so we can nab them for real."

"This is gonna turn into a real cluster-fuck before we're done, isn't it?"

"You don't know the half of it."

Kate nodded, but remained silent for a minute or two as her mind mulled over possibilities. Director, sensing that the younger woman may have a pending question, finally approached and took a seat in the easy chair positioned perpendicularly to the couch. Both women remained this way for some time before the younger finally spoke, looking over to the GJ head with an inquisitive expression. "What do you want to bet these two cases are related," she said, "and Drew dreamt up that hare-brained scheme to throw us off the trail?"

"An interesting theory," Director mused, nodding slowly. "It's certainly something to look into, if nothing else."

"Might be something to put Nerdlinger onto," Kate suggested with a shrug. "He was always good at tracking Dr. D's lairs before; what's to say that's changed?"

"After learning what we've learned about the Lipsky and Demenz we have in custody, I think Dr. Load would relish the opportunity to track them down," Director replied, nodding in agreement. "I'll pass it along to him."

"It might not hurt to make like those blood tests haven't been done yet," Kate said. "If you make it look like they're taking as long as any normal blood work would, then we can make them think they've still got us fooled."

"Oh, even if we did get the results, they would think they've fooled us," Director said. "Standard blood tests all came back with normal results; it was a couple of experimental tests that our scientists have conjured up that caught them."

"So I guess the best bet would be to let them think they've bamboozled us while we track them down and take 'em by surprise," the comet-endowed woman surmised.

"Agreed," Director replied, rising. "I think I've taken enough of your time for today, Kate, so I'll leave you be. And just so you know, nobody's putting a time limit on when you do get your own place and car; truth be told, I'd feel better if you held off on that until after this whole fiasco is dealt with."

"Thanks again, Betty; I really appreciate it," Kate said with a nod of thanks. With that, Dr. Director left the former villainess' temporary home and returned to her office.

* * *

Anne Possible strode through the front door of her home with an added spring in her step. When she'd been talking to Kim earlier in the afternoon she had only planned on getting home around the same time as her husband and sons. Thanks to a cancellation at the beauty salon/aesthetician (she'd only gone to her office to clear up some lagging paperwork while she waited for her appointment); she was able to get out of there and home by four o'clock, hopefully allowing her to be able to spend some quality mother/daughter time with Kim before the men of the house returned from the Space Center. Climbing the wrought-iron staircase that led to Kim's bedroom, the elder redhead knocked softly on the trapdoor. "Kimmie? Are you awake yet?" she called.

Inside the bedroom, Kim was just waking up when she heard her mother knock on the trapdoor. Eyes widening, she quickly searched about for something to put on so she could admit the elder redhead. "Just a minute, Mom!" she called, her eyes darting around the room. Her eyes soon fell on Ron's old jersey—her usual sleepwear—still draped over the back of the computer chair, so she grabbed it and quickly threw it over her head, shoving her arms through the sleeves as she flipped the lock on the trapdoor with her toe. "Come on in," she said, trying not to sound too breathless.

Anne came up the stairs and smiled at her daughter. "I didn't wake you up, did I?" she asked as Kim started going through her closet, searching for some actual clothes to wear.

"No, I woke up about two minutes before you knocked on the door," the younger redhead replied as she tossed a pair of white khaki shorts and a black tank top on the bed.

"Good," the neurosurgeon said as she watched Kim pull some underwear from a dresser drawer. Picking up the shorts her daughter had selected, she held them up to the light for a moment. "Um, Kimmie?" she said hesitantly.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"If you're going to wear a thong under these, you might want to pick a different color than black."

Kim blinked as she looked at the undergarments in her hand, realizing that she had indeed selected a matching black bra and thong. Blushing furiously, she returned the skimpy undergarment to its drawer and searched for something more appropriate; she'd forgotten the shorts she selected were the slightest bit transparent, especially in direct sunlight.

Selecting a flesh-toned version, she picked up the articles she'd laid on the bed and went behind the privacy screen, hastily dressing. In a matter of moments she re-emerged, fully dressed and with no evidence showing through the light material of her shorts. "Thanks Mom," she muttered, still slightly embarrassed, "that would've been a major fashion _faux pas."_

"That's what I'm here for," Anne shrugged with a smile. Looking over her daughter with an appraising eye, she nodded approvingly. "I can't get over how much of a woman you've grown up to be, Kim," she said wistfully.

"Okay Mom, amp down the melodrama," Kim giggled, grabbing a pair of ankle socks from another drawer in her dresser.

"Sorry, Kimmie; mother's prerogative," Anne quipped as Kim sat down beside her and slipped the socks over her feet.

"Uh-huh; sure," the younger redhead drawled as she grabbed a brush from her nightstand and went to the mirror over the bathroom sink, leaving the door open so she could still talk to her mother. "Do you and Dad have anything planned for tonight?" she asked.

"Not really; did you have something in mind?"

"Well, I thought maybe it would be nice if we all went out to dinner; maybe we could invite the Stoppables, too?"

"That's a great idea, Kim," Anne said, turning to watch as the younger redhead finished brushing her hair and tied it up in a ponytail. "Where would you like to go?"

"I thought we could check out that new steakhouse over on Maple," Kim suggested, sitting down on the computer chair long enough to remove the socks she'd just put on.

"You mean Muddrakker's?"

"Yeah, that's the place," she replied, returning the still-clean socks to their drawer. Pulling a pair of black leather, mid-heel sandals from the closet, she slipped them on her feet as she continued. "Have you heard whether Ron's in town yet or not?"

Anne couldn't help the knowing grin that crossed her face. _She wants to look her best for her man,_ she thought as her daughter returned to the bathroom, studying herself in the mirror on the door before starting to apply makeup. "Yeah, he called me when I was just leaving the salon," she replied, "but he didn't know the number of his room. You'll have to check at the Information desk."

"Okay," the teen said as she applied her mascara. "Maybe what I'll do, then, is go over and visit him for a little bit and meet you and his parents at Muddrakker's for dinner?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," the elder redhead said with a nod as Kim returned to the bedroom proper. "How about I give you a call when your father and the boys get home?"

"Perfect," she said, stopping in front of her mother. "How do I look?" she asked, twirling slightly.

"Absolutely beautiful, Kim," Anne replied with a wistful smile.

"It's not too much for going to visit him in the hospital, is it?"

At that question the neurosurgeon couldn't help but torment her daughter a little bit. "Your father might say it's not enough," she quipped, earning a glare from the younger woman in front of her. With a wink, she continued in a more serious tone. "You look like the woman you've grown up to be, Kimmie; I'm sure Ron will love it."

"Thanks, Mom," Kim said with a bright smile, not even bothering to deny the reason she'd chosen the outfit she wore. Strapping her Kimmunicator to her wrist, she was just about ready to call her ensemble complete when a sudden thought crossed her mind. "It's just missing one more thing," she mused.

"Oh? What's that?"

"This," she replied, extracting a fine gold chain from her jewelry box—a birthday present from Ron. Once she'd fastened it around her neck, she examined her reflection in the vanity mirror one last time. "Now it's perfect."

"He does love it when you wear that," the elder Possible agreed with a nod. "It means a lot to him that it means so much to you."

"Yeah, well… how could it not, really?" she shrugged as she fingered the delicate chain and the gold locket suspended from it. "He described our lives and our relationship perfectly when he gave me this."

Inside the locket were two photographs; one of she and Ron when they met in pre-K, the other a miniature copy of them sharing their first embrace during the junior prom (a 5"x7" glossy version of the same photo held a place of honor on her nightstand, beside her alarm clock). When Ron had given the locket to her and showed her the pictures, he explained them as the two defining moments of his life—meeting her and falling in love with her. Needless to say, when she got over the overwhelming urge to cry at the thoughtfulness of her boyfriend, the ensuing kiss she gave him left the poor boy barely capable of breathing on his own.

"I know what you mean," Anne said, nodding again. Looking at the alarm clock next to her, she got up from her seat on the bed. "Now, get going; if you sit around here much longer, you'll just walk into his room when I call you to meet us," she said with a note of finality.

"Okay, Mom; see you in a bit," the younger redhead said as she picked up her purse, stopping long enough to give her mother a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before preceding the elder redhead down the stairs from her bedroom.

* * *

On a nearby side street, a navy blue Ford cargo van sat at the curb with its engine idling. From its vantage point, the passenger of the van could just see the end of the Possible driveway over a four-foot hedge that lined one home's yard. Perking up at the sight of a pinkish-colored hatchback reversing from the driveway, the passenger quickly touched the driver's arm and muttered, "We're on," before opening a miniature laptop.

Once the heavily-modified Roth SL had gone by, the driver put the van in gear and pulled off the side street, following the car at a discreet distance. Traffic was light, making the task of following the unsuspecting teenager ahead of them an easy one as they traveled along the road, the passenger of the van still watching the miniature laptop's screen.

"Turn left at the next intersection."

"I can still see her," the driver retorted indignantly as he made the prescribed turn.

"Don't get too close."

"I know how to fuckin' tail somebody."

"Everybody makes mistakes; I'm just making sure I have a contingency plan." Studying their quarry's general direction, the passenger continued. "Looks like she's headed for the hospital."

"Ain't her old lady a doctor?"

"She got home twenty minutes ago. Maybe her boy's back in town?"

"Could be; so what's the plan?"

"Let's let her see her boy; we'll nab her on the way out."

A short time later, Kim's pursuers suspicions were confirmed as the teen's conspicuous car pulled into the visitor's lot at Middleton General. Waiting a short distance up the street, the driver of the cargo van waited for the young heroine to cross the street and enter the hospital before pulling into the visitor's lot and finding a parking space—to their good fortune—beside the magenta automobile.

"Now we wait," Peregrine said with a predatory grin, snapping the laptop shut.

* * *

"Hi Kim," the information desk clerk said with a smile as the redhead approached. "What brings you in today?"

"Hi Leann," Kim replied, returning the woman's smile with one of her own. "I'm here to see my boyfriend Ron; can you tell me what room he's in?"

"Ron Rieger? I never would've thought you would go out with him," Leann said with a raised eyebrow. "I always figured you'd end up with that Droppable boy you used to hang out with all the time."

"Oy," Kim muttered, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand. "You mean Ron Stoppable?" she said irritably. "Yes, I did end up with him; he's who I'm talking about, not Ron Rieger!"

"Oh, is that his name? I thought it was Don Droppable or something like that," Leann said as she tapped on the keyboard in front of her. After a moment, she found Ron's information and wrote the number on a slip of paper. "Here you go, Kim; fourth floor," she said, passing the slip to the teen.

"Thank you," the redhead said as she accepted the slip of paper, still slightly miffed that the clerk got Ron's name wrong—something that happened far too often, in her opinion. Shaking her head as she got on the elevator, she pushed the thought out of her mind so she could be in a good mood when she went in to see her man.

She'd successfully rid her mind of the minor irritation she suffered by the time she stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor. Following the signs along the hallway, it took her next to no time to find the ward that housed Ron's room, greeting acquaintances she'd met through her mother along the way. She stopped briefly at the nurses' station to say a quick hello to a long-time nurse friend of her mother's—both of whom started at Middleton General at around the same time—before continuing on to Ron's room, which she found with little trouble.

Stepping quietly through the slightly-open door, she instantly locked her gaze on the form of the towheaded young man lying in the hospital bed—the young man that owned her heart. Smiling affectionately when she realized he was asleep, she pushed the door gently shut behind her before entering the room and sitting down in a chair alongside his bed. Almost immediately her left hand slipped into his right, her fingers intertwining his. "Yori," she said, looking around the room, "I'd like a few minutes alone with my boyfriend, please and thank you."

Like in Denver, the form of the lithe, young ninja seemed to simply materialize from the shadows as she stepped into view. "Of course, Kim-chan; I will await you in the lobby," she said with a bow.

"Thanks," Kim said with a grateful smile.

Without further preamble, Yori left, leaving the two teens alone. As soon as the door closed behind the young Japanese woman, Kim leaned over and kissed Ron softly on the lips. "Hey baby," she whispered as she pulled back, her right hand stroking his hair softly.

At first there was no reaction from the bedridden young man, making Kim wonder if perhaps he'd been sedated for the transfer from Denver. When he finally stirred and mumbled, "Just five more minutes, Mom," she realized he was just sleeping as soundly as he ever did. A few moments later he stirred again, his eyelids fluttering open. "Now that's the way I wanna wake up every morning," he said groggily, a grin on his face.

"Provided I'm not on a mission or at work, I'll be here first thing every morning," the redhead replied softly, squeezing his hand that she still held. "How was the trip from Denver?"

"It sucked," Ron said flatly, his expression going from a grin to a scowl. "I asked the guy driving if he'd stop at Bueno Nacho on the way—I even offered to spring for his—and he said no!"

Kim sat and listened to her boyfriend's rant with a bemused smirk. "You know they can't do that," she chided, shaking her head. If he was wanting Bueno Nacho, that had to mean he was getting better.

"But I'm the patient!" he argued. "In the medical profession, I'm the customer and the customer's always right!"

She couldn't help but giggle at his flawed—yet somewhat functional—sense of logic. "Tell you what," she said, hoping to appease him, "I'll stop by Bueno Nacho later and grab a Naco for you; how's that sound?"

"Have I told you I love you lately?"

"Not today," she said with an impish grin.

"I love you, Kim."

"Don't you forget it, either, mister," she murmured huskily, claiming his mouth with her own in a tender kiss, her right hand slipping from his unruly blonde hair to his cheek, her thumb caressing his stubbly cheek. "You need to shave," she murmured as she pulled away.

"Yeah, I know, but they won't even let me up to go to the bathroom," he lamented, pointing over the opposite side of the bed, where his catheter bag hung under the bed rail, "and I'm not gonna try and shave without a mirror… or a sink… or shaving cream… or a razor…"

"Okay, Captain Rambler," Kim giggled, "I get the point." Having a sudden wave of inspiration, she jumped out of her seat and kissed him again on the forehead. "I'll be right back," she said, turning to leave.

"Where you going?" he asked, nonplussed.

"Nurses' station," she replied cryptically, not bothering to stop. Before he could ask any more questions the redhead had already left the room, so he simply laid back and waited. Judging by the fact she'd left her purse on the small table beside his bed, she wouldn't be gone long. Sure enough, she came back in with a small paper bag and a washcloth in her hand, along with a stainless-steel kidney pan and two towels draped over her shoulder. "You need a shave and the nurses are busy enough here as it is, so I'm going to do it for you," she explained as she put the pan on the table, steam lightly rising from the hot water inside it.

"You sure about this, KP?" he asked as he watched her extract a disposable razor and a small can of shaving foam from the bag.

"Of course I am," she replied lightly as she used a washcloth to wet his face. "I shave my legs almost every day; how much different can this be?"

"If you say so," he said dubiously as he watched her squirt a dollop of foam onto her fingertips. Tucking his lips inside his mouth as his father taught him when he started shaving, he waited for Kim to apply the foam to his entire face before returning his mouth to normal. Using that technique saved him the unpleasant experience of licking his lips and getting a tongueful of shaving cream.

Once she'd finished applying the foam to his face, she took one of the towels and laid it across his chest, just below his chin, to catch any stray shaving foam or water as she shaved him. Removing the protective cap from the razor, she dipped it briefly in the hot water before carefully moving to his face. "Ready?" she said, the implement hovering a fraction of an inch above his left cheek.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied.

With a soft smile, Kim nodded and placed the razor on his cheek and carefully dragged it down his face, careful to not press too hard or move too fast. As she went, she realized that shaving a man's face is _nothing_ like shaving a woman's legs or underarms; she didn't find it any more difficult… just different.

In a matter of minutes, she was cleaning the final remnants of hair and shaving cream from the razor and replacing its protective cap while Ron used the towel she'd placed on his chest to wipe his face of the residual foam. "See?" she said as she put the razor and shaving cream back in their bag. "I told you I could do it."

Ron ran his hands over his cheeks and neck, appraising Kim's handiwork. "Yeah, you did, KP," he said with a nod, "but you missed a spot."

"What? Where?" she exclaimed, leaning closer to inspect his face. She was sure she'd done as good a job—if not better—on his face than she normally did on her legs.

As soon as she was within range, Ron brought his left hand up and dabbed a small dollop of the leftover shaving cream from his face on her nose. "Right there," he said with a mischievous smirk.

"Be thankful you're still confined to a hospital bed," Kim seethed good-naturedly, using the spare towel to wipe the cream from her nose, "or else I'd just have to unleash the most devastating tickle attack you've ever experienced."

"Yeah, I know," he said with a shrug, "I guess I'll just have to take a rain check on that one."

Giggling, Kim tossed the towels and washcloth into a soiled linen bin and dumped the water from the kidney pan down the bathroom sink before returning to her seat at Ron's bedside. Once she'd settled into the chair, she reached over and ran a hand over his cheek again. "Much better," she said with a nod. "Now it doesn't feel like I'm kissing a belt sander."

"Speaking of kissing," Ron said, looking over his girlfriend again, "you got a hot date tonight? You're lookin' smokin'!"

"You think so?" she said, standing up and turning on the spot to give him a better view. "I just threw this on after I got up from my nap this afternoon."

"You've got good aim," he said with an exaggerated leer. "Those shorts make your legs look like they go on forever; especially with the heels."

"Well, I'm glad you like it," the redhead murmured huskily, leaning down until her nose was mere millimeters from his, "because it's all for you." With that, she pressed her lips to his in a warm and tender kiss.

"Booyah," Ron whispered as they parted, his lips brushing hers. "I've gotta be the luckiest guy on the planet."

"When a girl has a guy like you, they tend to feel pretty lucky, too, y'know," Kim said with a smile as she slipped her hand into his again, their fingers intertwining. Settling back in the chair, she cast a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall, a groan escaping her lips when she saw the time. "I have to go soon," she sighed, disappointment in her voice. "I'm supposed to meet our parents at Muddrakker's for dinner; Mom said she'd call when Dad and the tweebs got home and they'll probably be getting there any time now."

"That's the new steakhouse on Maple, right? I've been wanting to go there," her boyfriend replied.

"We'll go sometime after you're healed up, just the two of us," Kim suggested. "We can make that part of a dinner and movie night."

"Sounds badical," he said with a grin. Releasing her hand, he reached over and ran his fingers over her cheek. "You'd better get going; don't want to keep our 'rents waiting."

"Okay, baby," she whispered, turning her head to kiss his fingertips. "I'll come back after we're done there and bring you that Naco I promised."

Ron's grin grew even wider. "What did I ever do to deserve a woman like you?"

"What you've always done; stuck beside me and had my back when I needed you the most," she replied fondly, rising from her seat and leaning over to kiss him again, lingering for some time before pulling back. "I love you, baby," she whispered as their lips parted.

"Love you too, KP; have fun with the family and tell 'em I said hi."

"You got it," she replied, stroking his cheek lightly as she retrieved her purse and slung it over her shoulder. "I'll see you again in a couple of hours."

"Can't wait," he said, watching her leave.

Conscious of his eyes on her, Kim put an extra sway in her hips for his benefit. She knew the shorts she'd selected accentuated more than just her legs and she made sure to remind her boyfriend just what they did for her lithe figure. When she turned around at the door to wave one last goodbye to him, it was clear that he'd been reminded. "I thought Rufus was home?" she said innocently, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Oh, geez," Ron muttered, turning red as he—_adjusted—_some things so they weren't quite so obvious.

"I'll see you later, Ron," she laughed, leaving her poor, tormented boyfriend alone to recover; both from his injury and his embarrassment.

She was still giggling at the effect she'd had on her boyfriend when she stepped off the elevator in the lobby, unable to even attempt to wipe the smile from her face. As she crossed the lobby toward the exit, she saw Yori sitting in one of the lounge seats, reading a newspaper. Changing her course, she sat down across from the young Japanese woman and picked up an old copy of _Cosmopolitan._ Opening it to a random article, she pretended to read. "Thanks again, Yori; I really appreciate you giving us that time," she said as she flipped the page.

"Of course, Kim-chan," Yori replied, also flipping a page of her newspaper. "I will return to his room to continue my vigil shortly."

"You might want to give him a minute," Kim giggled, "I kinda left him a little flustered."

"I do not understand."

"Let's just say his 'Essential Ron-ness' is in its full glory at the moment."

"Oh… oh, my," Yori stammered, her face flushing as she caught the meaning to Kim's American-style innuendo. "I will certainly do that, Kim-chan; thank you for warning me in advance."

"No problem, Yori," she said dismissively. "I'm going to stop by a little later and bring Ron some take-out—I think he's getting sick of hospital food—do you want me to grab you something, too?"

"No thank you," the young ninja replied, abandoning the section of newspaper she was reading for the next one. "I ate not long ago; I should be fine until the next time I can leave Ron-kun alone."

"Okay then," Kim said, flipping one last page. "I'll talk to you later, I guess."

"Of course, Kim-chan; be safe."

"Thanks," the redhead said, putting the magazine she'd been skimming back on the table and leaving the Japanese girl alone.

Once she'd exited the building, Kim extracted her cell phone from her purse and called her mother. "Hey Mom," she said, "I'm just leaving the hospital now… he's doing good… yeah, I said I'd bring him some take-out later… okay, I'll meet you over there in about twenty minutes… love you too, Mom… 'bye."

By the time she'd completed her conversation with her mother, she'd just about arrived at her car. Dropping her phone back into her purse, the teen started rummaging in the bag for her keys, an abstract thought to clean it out once she got home crossing her mind. Looking up again, she vaguely made note of the large van parked beside her car, wondering why people always insisted on parking so close to the edge of a parking space.

Pushing the thought from her head, she finally managed to extract her keys from her purse. Stepping up to her car, she was about to press the button on her key fob to unlock the door when something struck her on the back of the head, causing an explosion of light to dance through her vision before she lost consciousness.

_

* * *

_

_A/N: Hoo-boy, it's starting to get nasty! After so many questions I've had in my own head on how this story was going to play out, I've finally got the majority of the answers, so hopefully my updates will be a bit more frequent (this chapter is, I think, the shortest span between two updates since I first posted the prologue some time ago) as the climax and subsequent ending come about. The light's at the end of the tunnel, folks, and the ride's gonna get that much rougher before it gets smoother._

_Some may have noticed the name of the steakhouse Kim and the family are going to might seem a little familiar. I added that to my story as my own personal tribute to the late, great Commander Argus; a wonderful author who was taken from us far too soon and will be sorely missed._

_Thanks again to all those who've stuck by me since the first post, and also thanks to those that have started reading more recently; you're the reason this thing's still alive and kicking._

_As always; leave a review, get a response!_

_Cheers,  
Deuce_


	13. Chapter Twelve

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series Kim Possible are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_

* * *

A/N: Here it is, Chapter Twelve, ready for your reading and reviewing pleasure! Thanks to CajunBear73, KP's Man, shana elmsford, screaming phoenix, Katsumara and Black-Bloodend for reviewing on the last chapter and to all those who've added this story to their favorites alerts; it's greatly appreciated by this humble author, knowing his creation is being enjoyed by so many._

_On that note, on with the story!_

_**

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE**_

"Go!" Peregrine barked the moment she'd dragged Kim's limp body into the van and shut the door, tossing the blackjack she'd clubbed the teen with on the floor behind her.

In the driver's seat, Bart threw the transmission in gear and pulled away as Peregrine started trussing the teen up. "Okay, Peregrine; where to?" he asked, maneuvering to the exit.

"Headquarters," Peregrine replied, "so Hawk's client will have to come to us to get his prize."

"You got it," Bart said as he left the parking lot.

Peregrine had just finished tying the teen's ankles together and was about to start on her wrists when she noticed the Kimmunicator. "Well, what do we have here?" she muttered, removing the device from the redhead's wrist and examining it closely. "Pretty fancy watch, wouldn't you say, Bart?" she called, tossing it onto the passenger's seat.

Bart picked it up and looked it over, keeping one eye on the road. "Pretty snazzy, alright; you wanna keep it?"

"Are you fucked in the head?" the mercenary snapped as she made sure Kim's wrists were bound so tight that she barely had any circulation to her hands. "That thing's how this little slut keeps in touch with her geek friend; if we hang on to it, they'll probably be able to track us right to our doorstep! Toss it when we get on the highway!"

"You got it," he said.

* * *

Yori was just about to return to Ron's room when, following her intuition, she decided to peek outside and make sure Kim had made her way safely to her car. Folding up her newspaper, she replaced it on the table in front of her and made her way outside, scanning the parking lot across the road for any sign of the teen heroine.

When she did finally pick Kim out of the crowd, she could see that the teen heroine was already beside her car and extracting her keys from her purse when the side door of a dark-colored cargo van parked beside the brightly-painted Sloth swung open. Yori could do no more than look on in horror as Kim was struck on the back of the head with a leather blackjack and dragged into the van, the door closing immediately behind her as the van drove off. Muttering a curse in Japanese under her breath, the young ninja watched as the van left the lot, committing the vehicle's license plate to memory, with the knowledge that the plates were likely either stolen or counterfeit.

Once the van was gone, Yori returned to Ron's room, where she noticed the towheaded teen was again sleeping; apparently Kim had taken all the energy out of him when she teased him earlier. Thankful that she wouldn't have to explain her sudden haste, she picked up the telephone and dialed a number from memory.

"Load residence," a feminine voice said on the other end of the line.

"Good afternoon; could I speak with Wade-sama, please?"

"Of course; who, may I ask, is calling?"

"My name is Yori; please, it is of the utmost urgency that I speak with him at once."

"Okay, miss, just calm down," the woman—Yori assumed it was Wade's mother—said as she beckoned for Wade to take the phone. A moment later he was on the line.

"Yori? What's going on?"

"Wade-sama, Kim-chan has been abducted," she said, ensuring she kept her voice low so not to awaken the sleeping young man in the bed mere feet away.

"_What?_ When?" he asked; in the background, Yori could hear him typing furiously.

"Just moments ago," she replied. "A large, dark-colored van was parked beside her car and when she went to get into it, the side door opened and somebody struck her on the head; they dragged her into the van and left."

"Was there any identifying markings on the van?"

"There were no names; however I was able to memorize its license plate."

"It's probably a phony, but I'll take whatever I can get at this point," the tech guru said. Yori rattled off the license plate number and state of origin so he could start a search on it. Less than a minute later their suspicions were confirmed—the license plates were bogus. "Did you see who it was that took her?"

"I could not see either of the persons in the van," the young ninja said apologetically. "I am assuming there were at least two; the van left almost immediately after the doors shut and I would assume they would not chance leaving Kim-chan unattended."

"You're probably right," Wade agreed. "Okay, I'm gonna try to track her via the Kimmunicator; whatever you do, Yori, _don't_ tell Ron what's going on. He'll freak if he finds out Kim's been captured."

"I will make no mention of it," Yori said, "however, if you require my services, please let me know; I am at your disposal."

"Thanks, Yori; I'll be in touch if we need you," Wade said before hanging up.

* * *

Kim started coming around about the time Bart pulled onto the highway. Peregrine—who'd been waiting for the teen to regain consciousness—promptly slapped her across the face. "Wake up, bitch," she snarled. When she didn't respond right away, the mercenary proceeded to strike her twice more.

Finally the redhead's eyes fluttered open. "Peregrine, I presume?" she muttered once her eyes focused on the woman in front of her.

"In the flesh," Peregrine replied with a smirk. "I take it my reputation precedes me?"

"You could say that," Kim replied nonchalantly. "So what's your reason for snagging me from a hospital parking lot when I'm on my way to meet my family for dinner?"

Peregrine chuckled humorlessly as she leaned back against the opposite wall of the van. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she sneered. "Suffice it to say my organization's latest client has paid us a hefty sum to capture your skinny little ass and deliver it to him."

"Oh really?" the young heroine said, arching her eyebrows. "I'm guessing your so-called _client_ wants me alive; I can't see you letting me live if you didn't have to."

"If it were up to me you'd already be dead," the mercenary replied with a scowl.

Kim's eyes widened as Peregrine's statement sunk in. "You," she seethed, her face contorting in rage. "You were the one that shot Ron in Denver, you fucking _bitch!"_ she screamed as she strained against her bonds in a fruitless attempt to attack the slightly older woman across from her.

"I was aiming for you!" Peregrine retorted, backhanding Kim across the face and cutting the redhead's escape attempt short. "I don't know how your idiot boyfriend got in the way and, really, I don't give a fuck."

Kim turned her head and spit a stream of blood-laced saliva on the floor beside her. "I swear, when I get out of this, you're _mine,"_ she snarled.

"You'd better behave yourself," the mercenary warned, pausing to give Kim another pair of slaps, "our client said he wanted you alive… he didn't say you needed to be in perfect health." With that, she punched the redhead square in the face, driving her head into the framing pillar that she'd been lashed to, knocking her out once again. "Mouthy little cunt," she muttered, returning to the passenger's seat. Noticing the Kimmunicator still lying on the seat, she picked it up and carelessly threw it out the window as they left the Tri-City area limits.

* * *

Back in Middleton, Wade was mentally preparing himself for the one task that he always logically knew could be required of him, but at the same time hoped he never would have to do. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the telephone receiver his hand has been resting on and dialed a number he hoped he would never have to use.

On the fourth ring the call was answered. "Hello?" a chipper voice said.

"Hi, Dr. Possible," Wade said, unable to keep the despair from his voice.

"Wade?" Anne Possible said with a hint of surprise.

"Yeah, it's me," he said, licking his lips nervously. "I… have some bad news; Kim's been kidnapped."

Anne gasped sharply, sinking heavily into a kitchen chair near where she stood. She and James had just been heading out the door when the telephone had started ringing. Normally they would have simply let the call go to voicemail, but for some reason the redheaded neurosurgeon decided to take the time to answer the call; both thankful and regretful she'd done so.

"What's wrong, dear?" James asked, having returned just in time to see her slump into the chair.

Holding a hand up to silence her husband, Anne returned her focus to the young tech guru on the other end of the line. "How long ago?" she asked in a flat voice.

"I just got word not five minutes ago," Wade replied. In the background, Anne could hear him typing furiously as he continued. "We're working on it as best we can right now; I just figured you'd rather hear it from me than anybody else."

"Do you have any leads yet?"

"A bogus license plate number on a non-descript van," Wade sighed, "but we do have a likely suspect that we're focusing on."

"Okay, then; thank you for thinking of us first, Wade," Anne said with a sigh. "Keep us posted on anything you learn."

"I'll do that," he said with sincerity. "Don't worry, Dr. Possible; we'll get her back."

"I don't doubt that you will," she replied, a tear rolling down her face. Dumbly, she left her seat and returned the kitchen phone's receiver to its cradle, her husband watching the entire time.

"Anne?" he asked tentatively as she turned towards him, her gaze still focused on the floor at her feet. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Kimmie… Kim's been kidnapped," the neurosurgeon whispered, wrapping her arms around her husband's shoulders and collapsing into his embrace. "Wade just found out; he says they're already looking for her."

James took several deep breaths to ensure he kept his composure before he even dared speak. "First Ronald gets injured and put in the hospital; now somebody's taken my Kimmie-cub… dear God, what could be next?" he whispered into his bride's hair.

"I don't even want to think about that right now, James," she whispered into his chest, squeezing him tighter.

At that moment, Jim and Tim returned from waiting in the family minivan. "What's taking you guys so long?" Jim asked.

"We've been waiting for ten minutes," Tim added.

"Boys," James said, motioning to the kitchen table and disengaging himself from his wife as he spoke, "sit down; we have some bad news." He paused as the twin fourteen-year-old boys took their normal seats at the kitchen table before continuing. "Wade just called us a few minutes ago… your sister's been kidnapped."

Both of the young geniuses gaped at their father as he dropped the news on them. "Does he know who did it?" Jim finally managed to ask.

"Does he need any help finding her?" Tim chimed in.

James Timothy Possible, Senior couldn't help but smile at his sons. Rather than letting the news of their sister's abduction get them down, the young dynamos were eager to offer their talents and knowledge to the search efforts. "That's my boys," he said, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. "I'm sure Wade would appreciate any help you can offer him."

Jim turned to Tim. "Hick-a-bick-a-boo?" he said.

"Hoo-sha!" Tim replied enthusiastically. With that, the twins bolted from their seats and headed for their bedroom to contact Wade; their parents watching in proud awe.

Anne wiped her eyes as she looked back to her husband. "How did we ever end up being blessed with three such wonderful children?" she asked with a proud smile.

"Some things just can't be explained, dear; all we can do is be thankful for what we have," he replied, putting an arm over her shoulders.

"Let's just hope we aren't about to lose any of what we do have," the neurosurgeon whispered. Looking up at her husband, she continued. "Would you call the Stoppables and let them know what's happened? They're probably waiting for us," she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek before disengaging from his embrace.

"Sure, hon; what're you going to do?" he asked as he reached for the telephone.

"Get changed into something more comfortable and put on a pot of coffee," she replied. "I don't know about you, but I've lost my appetite and I don't plan on going to bed anytime soon."

Nodding in agreement, James proceeded to dial the Stoppable's number while Anne made her way to the bedroom. Along the way, she stopped at the foot of the stairs to gaze at the two latest photographs that hung there, representing the latest chapter in the story of the Possible household.

In the first photograph—taken the Christmas Eve past—the world-famous surgeon's gaze fell immediately on Kim and her boyfriend. They were standing behind herself and her husband—Ron behind James and Kim behind her mother—who were seated in a couple of chairs from the dining room, Jim and Tim flanking them. Even though they were mostly obstructed by the elder Possibles, Anne could see that Kim and Ron had their arms around each other's waists, their other hands resting on James and Anne's shoulders. All six of the subjects in the photograph wore broad smiles on their faces, but none quite as bright as the two teenagers in the back.

Beside that photo was another, more recent one; in fact, she had finally got it framed and hung on the wall the night before. It was Kim and Ron and all four parents standing beside a black Cadillac stretch limousine, the two teens dressed for their senior prom. Ron wore a classic black tuxedo with a forest-green vest and cravat, matching Kim's strapless cocktail dress perfectly; almost as if they were made from the same bolt of material. They both looked so carefree and happy; Anne could hardly believe that it'd only been taken two weeks ago and how much had changed since then.

Turning away from the photographs, she continued up the stairs, finding herself engaging in an activity she hadn't done in some time—praying. _Keep my little girl safe,_ she thought to whatever God might be listening, _let her come home to us; _all_ of us._

* * *

"Son of a bitch, these places are expensive around here," Kate muttered to herself as she scrolled the page. She was perusing the _Middleton Examiner's_ website classifieds, shopping for more permanent lodging than her current accommodations with Global Justice. When she'd started out, she had either a condo or a modest house in mind, but the prices were a bit higher than originally expected.

Her internal rant about realtors and highway robbery was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone beside her. Picking up the device without taking her eyes off the screen, she answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Kate, it's Wade; we have a… slight problem."

Detecting a note of urgency in the tech guru's voice, the former villainess removed her attention from the computer screen in front of her and focused it on him. "What's wrong?" As soon as Wade told her what happened, the mint-skinned woman's eyes hardened and her lips contorted into a scowl. "Phoenix," she hissed through clenched teeth, "that's the only thing it could be."

"Agreed," Wade said, nodding even though Kate couldn't see him. "I've been tracking the Kimmunicator ever since Yori first told me, but it's stopped moving at a point along the highway. I can only assume they took it from her and dumped it."

"That's likely, but I still want to check it and be sure," Kate mused, leaving her seat and grabbing her purse. "I'll go find it and let you know."

"Right; you might want to let Dr. Director know, too," the teen genius suggested.

"Yeah, I'll stop in and see her before I leave here; thanks, Wade," she said, hanging up the phone. In a matter of moments she'd left her quarters and made her way to Dr. Director's office, practically running the entire way. Just as she arrived at the Global Justice administrator's door to knock on it, it opened to reveal the one-eyed woman.

"Miss Gogh, what brings you here?" Director said once she got over the initial shock.

"Big trouble; we gotta talk," Kate replied, pushing Director back into her office and kicking the door shut behind her.

"I'm assuming this is important, otherwise you wouldn't be preventing me from going home?" the elder woman deadpanned, leaning against the corner of her desk and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, you could say that," Kate replied, equally dryly. "Wade just called and informed me that Kim's been snatched; I think Phoenix is behind it."

"Shit," Director muttered, returning to her seat behind her desk. "This is not the sort of news I wanted to hear; especially not now."

"Tell me about it," the raven-haired vixen replied with a sigh, taking a seat across from Director. "He's tracked down the Kimmunicator, but it's not moving. Since he found it beside the highway, we're thinking Phoenix—or whoever it was—took it from her and turfed it out the window; I'm on my way out now to confirm that."

Director was silent for a moment, lips pursed and fingers steepled in front of her. Finally, she nodded. "Very well, however I want your word that, should you come across anything other than an abandoned Kimmunicator, you will contact Wade—and by extension myself—immediately."

"You got it," Kate agreed as she rose from her seat. "How's your crew making out on the Phoenix front, anyway?"

"They've almost got enough to warrant infiltration," Director replied. "If we can find a way to pin this on them, we'll have no trouble going in and taking them down."

"Perfect," Kate said with a nod. As she turned to put her hand on the doorknob, however, she was stopped by the one-eyed woman's voice.

"You don't have to do this, you know; that's what my agents are for."

Kate turned back to Director with her hand still on the doorknob. "Yeah, I do," she replied softly. "It's been a long time since I've had anybody I could call a friend; I'm not about to let the first person to believe in me in years down."

Director nodded with a soft sigh. "Very well; keep me posted," she said, logging back into her PC, indicating the meeting was concluded. Taking the hint, Kate left the office and quickly made her way to her borrowed car.

A short time later the former villainess was approaching the highway. Pulling her phone from her purse, she dialed Wade's number. "Okay, I'm coming up on the highway; you've got a GPS lock on my phone?"

"Affirmative," Wade replied, two blinking dots—a stationary red one and a moving green one—appearing on a map of the Tri-Cities area on one of his screens. "Get on the highway southbound and go for about a mile and a half; I'm showing the Kimmunicator's signal along there."

"Got it," she said, following Wade's directions. Traveling the prescribed distance, she pulled the Crown Vic onto the shoulder of the road and parked, setting the four-way flashers before getting out, phone still in hand. "Okay, I'm here," she said, walking slowly around the area, scouring the ground the entire time. _Good thing the road crew cut the bushes down not long ago,_ she thought, _it'll be hard enough to find as it is._

"You should be almost right on top of it," Wade said after about two minutes of her wandering about.

Almost immediately after, Kate spied the device lying on the ground. "Found it," she said as she picked it up and looked it over. "It looks like it's okay; I'm guessing you built this thing fairly rugged, considering the life it was meant to live."

"Yeah, I made sure it could take a beating," the young genius replied as Kate made her way back to the car. "Could you do me a favor and drop it off here? I'd like to examine it a bit closer. Hopefully there's a clue of some sort either in it or on it that will help."

"No problem," she said as she climbed back into the borrowed sedan, "I'll be there soon." Making an illegal U-turn across the highway median, the mint-skinned woman headed back into town.

* * *

Kim had finally started coming around again as Bart pulled the van through the gates of Phoenix headquarters. Her face and the back of her head hurt worse than she'd ever remembered them hurting, but otherwise she felt intact as she took a quick inventory of her body. Mentally, however, she chided herself for being unconscious for most of the journey and not having any way of figuring out where she was; regardless of the fact the van was windowless in the cargo area.

She sat in silence as the vehicle bounced its way over the rough terrain, her mind working on a way to get out of her predicament and, hopefully, contact either Wade or Global Justice. Various scenarios played through her mind, each one getting rejected as fast as it was conceived; either due to lack of feasibility or equipment. She would've felt better about the whole sitch had they not stripped her of her Kimmunicator, but without it she felt even more exposed than she already was in her revealing shorts and tank top.

At that point the van lurched to a stop; from the acoustics, Kim could tell that they were now inside a large building of some sort, likely either a heavy equipment garage or a hangar. Both occupants of the van's cab disembarked, but less than two seconds later both the side doors and the back doors swung open to reveal several other men and women with submachine guns trained on the redhead.

"Welcome to your new home for the next little while," Peregrine said as two of the guards separated to allow her passage to the side door. "At least, until your new owner comes and picks you up."

"How quaint," Kim deadpanned as the mercenary untied her from the support pillar, keeping her arms bound behind her back.

"Shut up, bitch," Peregrine spat, backhanding the former cheerleader across the face again. Without giving her a chance to recover, the older woman grabbed her by the ankles and bodily dragged her out the side door of the van, allowing her to fall the almost two feet from the vehicle's floor to the ground, landing squarely on her backside. On her way down, she'd struck her head on the step under the door, stunning her again. "That oughta make you easier to handle," she muttered, beckoning Bart to help her as she removed the teen's ankle restraints.

Kim shook her head in an effort to clear the cobwebs as she was roughly hauled to her feet, barely aware they were no longer bound together. As soon as she was standing, however, she felt cold steel and polymer pressing into the bare skin of her lower back, between her waistband and shirt tail. "One wrong move and you get a nine-mil spinal tap," Bart growled in her ear, pressing the Glock 17 harder into her spine.

"I'll be a good girl," Kim replied dryly, not even bothering to look at the man.

"Smart, too; now walk."

Nodding sullenly, the teen heroine allowed herself to be led from the hangar to her new accommodations. None of them spoke the entire time, Kim merely responding to the pressures placed on her arms by the two that flanked her, directing her to their eventual destination.

That destination turned out to be a small room in the basement of one of the compound's main buildings. A guard armed with a submachine gun stood aside as they approached the gray steel door, allowing Bart and Peregrine to roughly shove the redhead inside. Peregrine followed her and grabbed her again before she fully regained her footing, turning so the teen was facing the door, allowing her to see Bart's Glock still trained on her. "Now, you behave while I untie your hands, unless you'd like Bart to add some ventilation to your knee," she said mock-sweetly.

"Like I said, I'll be a good girl," Kim replied with a snarl as the mercenary removed her bonds. Rubbing her chafed wrists once they were free, she watched Peregrine return to the door. "So how long do I have to look forward to your hospitality?" she asked.

"As long as we decide to wait to let your new owner know and how long it takes for him to get here from wherever the hell he is," Peregrine replied with a broad smile that bore no warmth or humor. "Make yourself comfy in the meantime, Kimmie, I have a feeling it'll be awhile."

Kim merely glared as the heavy door shut, leaving her alone in the small room. Roughly six feet wide by ten feet deep, it was lit by a pair of eternally-humming fluorescent tubes recessed into the nine-foot ceiling. Sparsely furnished, she was mildly surprised to see she did have a functioning toilet and sink along with a steel framed bed, topped with a bare plastic mattress and equally bare pillow. _It's not the Ritz, but it could be worse,_ she thought as she sat down on the bed, the plastic crackling under her weight. For some time she just sat and assessed her situation, her mind still trying to hack out a possible escape plan, but Phoenix appeared to be too well organized to be able to just break out the next time a guard opened her door—unlike some of the goons her usual foes employed, these ones carried truly lethal weapons and would likely not hesitate to cut her down if she tried to escape.

Sighing, the teen laid down on the bed, the cold plastic of the mattress on her bare skin making her shiver for a moment. _This officially sucks,_ she thought, folding her hands across her stomach, _I'm stuck in God-knows-where without any gear of any kind; they took my Kimmunicator, I dropped my purse when they shanghaied me and now I don't have a clue what they've got in store for me._

Reaching up, she lightly grasped the locket that still hung from the gold chain around her neck. Holding it up so she could see it, she popped it open and gazed longingly at the towheaded young man in the more recent of the two pictures. "Sorry I got myself in this mess, baby," she murmured, "now I can't get you the Naco I promised." Bringing the gold trinket to her lips, she gently kissed it before closing it. "I love you," she whispered, releasing the locket and letting it drop to her chest. _I just hope the next time you see me isn't in this cage… or a casket._

* * *

Meanwhile, on their way to Hawk's office, Peregrine was still venting her frustrations to Bart. "I could've, Bart; you don't know how many times between here and Middleton I wanted to just snap that little bitch's neck and dump her off a bridge somewhere," she said with a scowl. "As much of a fucking headache as she can be to anybody in our line of work, I don't understand why this crackpot client of Hawk's wants her alive so bad."

"I know, I know," Bart said, trying to appease the young woman beside her, "but you never know; maybe when the client's done with Possible, he'll let you off her."

"I fucking hope so," the young mercenary snarled as she rapped her knuckles on Hawk's door.

"Come," the disembodied voice of the Phoenix head said from the other side of the door. Peregrine threw it open and strode in, Bart closing the door gently behind him before joining the young woman in front of the enigmatic man's desk. "I trust you have something to tell me I wish to hear?"

"Possible's locked up in one of the holding cells downstairs," Peregrine replied shortly. "She might have a couple of bruises and a loose tooth or two, but she's alive and relatively intact."

"Well done, Peregrine," Hawk said with a hint of a smile in his voice. "I will contact our client and inform him of this latest turn of events; I'm sure he will be most pleased."

"I'll be pleased when I get my cut of that insurance policy you charged him," the mercenary muttered.

"Oh, you will soon enough," Hawk replied again, "just as soon as our client takes delivery on his new acquisition. I will notify you when the transaction is about to take place."

Peregrine merely nodded, recognizing Hawk's way of advising her that she was dismissed. Turning, she and Bart left the office as their shadow-dwelling boss reached for the telephone and dialed his contact.

"Good evening, Hawk," the synthesized voice said halfway through the second ring. "I'm assuming this is not a social call?"

"Hardly," Hawk replied smugly. "I'm calling to inform you that your concubine is in our custody at this time."

"Excellent, Hawk; I commend you on your quick work," the voice said. "When can I expect delivery of Miss Possible to me?"

Hawk leaned ahead in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk as he spoke. "Ah, yes; see, here's how I see it," he said with a note of malice in his velvety voice, "since you required she be in next to immaculate condition, I figure you should come here and collect her yourself."

"Why would you require that of me? Have you not been sufficiently compensated for your efforts?"

"Oh, the pay is more than adequate, but if you want her you'll have to come and get her; we've done our part."

"Very well," the electronic voice said, "my colleagues and I will leave within the hour; how shall we find you?"

Hawk reached a hand to his keyboard and tapped a couple of keys before manipulating the mouse. "I'm sending a map of the general area to you; our location is clearly marked on it."

"Understood."

"Excellent; we'll see you soon," Hawk said brightly, hanging up the telephone. Leaning back in his seat, he picked up the cigar he'd been chewing on earlier and looked it over for a moment. Normally he would only light his cigars upon successful completion of an assignment for one of his clients, but he figured since Kim was currently being held in his most secure detainment facility the success of that assignment was in the bag. Nodding to himself, he proceeded to light the cigar, puffing clouds of blue smoke over his head. "Let's see that little tramp weasel her way out of this one," he muttered to the empty room, taking another puff from the cigar.

* * *

Kate pulled into the Load driveway a little bit faster than perhaps she should have, the tires squealing lightly in protest. Shutting the engine off and climbing out, she jogged up to the front step just as the door opened, revealing an attractive African-American woman a few years younger than Anne Possible. "You must be Kate," Wanda Load said, her visage one of concern. Pointing at a doorway, she continued. "Wade told me you were coming; his room's in the basement."

"Thanks," the mint-skinned woman said with a nod as she went through the indicated door and down the stairs, her boots making her sound like a herd of elephants stampeding down the wooden staircase.

"That was quick," Wade said with a grin as he got up from his seat and met the former villainess at the foot of the stairs, accepting the proffered Kimmunicator.

"Yeah, well, when you drive a Crown Vic with government plates on it, the cops tend to leave you alone," she replied with a shrug, following the teen to his central station. Taking a seat in the chair indicated by the tech guru, she couldn't help but marvel at how well he was equipped. "Quite a spread you've got here."

"Thanks," he said absently as he plugged a USB cable into a port on the side of the Kimmunicator. Tapping a couple of keys on his keyboard, he watched as the device's firmware interface came up on the screen. "I just hope this thing picked up something useful," he muttered as he navigated.

"How would it pick up something useful if Kim wasn't recording anything?" Kate asked as she watched the screen intently.

"Well, when I designed this version of the Kimmunicator, I incorporated a sort of 'black-box' into it," the teen replied as he clicked another link. "It's keeps three hours of audio records in hour-long blocks; every time the current one fills up, it overwrites the oldest block. I'm going to bring up the time when Kim was kidnapped and hope we can find a clue in there."

"Does Kim know about that little feature or is it like Ron's chip?" she asked, remembering Kim telling her about that little escapade.

"Oh, no; I won't be making that mistake again," Wade replied with a chuckle, "I told her that I wanted to put that in and I would only use it in a situation like this."

"Probably a good thing," the mint-skinned woman mused as she watched the teen start playback on the first file.

For the first little while all they could hear was steady breathing, Wade guessing correctly that Kim was sleeping. Skipping through parts of the files, he finally came to the point where she'd stopped in the hospital lobby to talk to Yori. "Okay, it should be coming up soon," he said, letting the file play out.

"_Hey Mom, I'm just leaving the hospital now,"_ Kim's voice said over the speakers. _He's doing good… yeah, I said I'd bring him some take-out later… okay, I'll meet you over there in about twenty minutes… love you, too, Mom… 'bye."_

Following Kim's conversation with her mother, the sound of the teen's cell phone snapping shut could be heard, followed by the rustling of her purse as she rummaged through it. Jangling keys were the next sound, along with Kim grumbling unintelligibly about something under her breath.

"Here it comes," Wade guessed, turning up the volume just in time to catch a sickening thud—presumably the moment Kim was struck on the head—followed by the sound of something being dragged into a vehicle. A feminine voice yelling _"Go!"_ and doors slamming shut were the next sounds to come across the speakers, immediately followed by the sound of an engine starting. They continued to listen, hoping somebody would say something to give them the lead they needed; the exchange between the male and female suspects not yielding anything of use.

Both Wade and Kate winced as the reports of Peregrine's hand striking Kim's face came across the speakers, but were relieved when they finally heard their friend respond to the mercenary's taunts. _"Peregrine, I presume?"_

"_In the flesh; I take it my reputation precedes me?"_

"_You could say that. So what's your reason for snagging me from a hospital parking lot when I'm on my way to meet my family for dinner?"_

"_Wouldn't you like to know? Suffice it to say my organization's latest client has paid us a hefty sum to capture your skinny little ass and deliver it to him."_

"_Oh, really? I'm assuming your so-called _client_ wants me alive; I can't see you letting me live if you didn't have to."_

"_If it was up to me, you'd already be dead."_

"_You… you were the one that shot Ron in Denver, you fucking _bitch!"

"_I was aiming for you! I don't know how your idiot boyfriend got in the way and, really, I don't give a fuck."_

Kim could be heard spitting before she spoke again. _"I swear, when I get out of this, you're _mine!"

_You'd better behave yourself; our client said he wanted you alive… he didn't say you needed to be in perfect health."_ Both listeners winced again as they heard the double-report of Peregrine's fist connecting with Kim's face and the back of her head hitting the side of the van. A short time later static feedback came through, followed by the ambient noises of vehicles driving by a stationary microphone on the highway.

"Well, that cinches it; Phoenix is behind this mess," Kate said as Wade stopped the playback.

"We still don't have anything to link Phoenix to Peregrine, though," the tech guru argued with a frown. "I'm gonna have to do some digging and see if I can find something that will connect the two."

"Fuck me gently with a wire brush," the former villainess groaned, her voice muffled behind her hands as she rubbed her face. "This is starting to get painful."

"Tell me about it," Wade sighed, turning to look at his guest again. "Look, I'm gonna start digging for what we need to link Peregrine to Phoenix; why don't you go back home and get some rest? I don't know when it's gonna all come together, but you'll be the first one to know when it does."

"Thanks, Nerdlinger," she said; the term quickly transforming from an insult to a term of endearment from the mint-skinned woman. Smiling softly, she gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "It'll come together; if anybody can put the puzzle together, you can." Without waiting for a response, she walked away and climbed the stairs without a glance back, leaving the young tech guru to his own devices.

Exhaling deeply, Wade leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for some time, his mind going into overdrive as he pondered how to track where Kim's captors were taking her. He found himself wishing—not for the first time—that he'd stuck her with the same type of tracking chip he'd planted in Ron some time ago (with her permission, of course; Wade learned from his mistakes, after all), but since that wasn't the case, he'd have to think of some other way to track her down.

His train of thought was interrupted by the chiming of his video messaging client. Opening it up, he was met with the twin visages of Jim and Tim Possible. "Hey guys," the teen tech guru said dejectedly, "what's up?"

"We want to help you find Kim," Jim said.

"Anything you need, just let us know," Tim added.

"Thanks guys," Wade said, "but right now I'm at a standstill; I've got audio from the Kimmunicator up to when it was dumped, but now I have to figure out where they went from there."

"Where did you find it?" Tim asked.

"It was along the highway, not far outside the Tri-City limits."

"Do we know what they were driving?" Jim said, glancing at his brother, who nodded.

"Yeah… what're you getting at?"

"The Colorado DOT has just finished putting up webcams along the major highways and interstates," Jim said with a grin. "Find the vehicle they were driving and track it along there… it's not the answer, but it's a step in the right direction."

"That's it!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Thanks, guys!"

"Glad we could help," Jim said with a grin. "Need any help with that?"

"No thanks, guys; I got it from here," the tech replied with a broad smile.

"Let us know if you need anything else; you know where to find us," Tim said before disconnecting the call.

With renewed enthusiasm, Wade started pursuing the angle Kim's brothers suggested. Fingers flying over the keyboards in front of him almost faster than they ever had, it was a matter of moments before he'd accessed the security system at Middleton General; more specifically, their closed-circuit camera system, thanking his lucky stars he'd been able to convince them to discard their old VHS recording system in favor of digitally recording and saving the camera footage.

In next to no time he had the image of Kim's Sloth in the parking lot; judging by the timestamp, it wasn't long after she'd arrived. Sitting back, he watched the footage until he saw a non-descript dark-blue Ford van pull up beside the outlandishly-painted hatchback. Pausing the playback, he zoomed in on the van and tried to get a decent shot of the occupants, hoping to be able to identify them by means other than the audio he had from the Kimmunicator's black box feature; with a bit of patience, he was awarded with clear facial shots of both of the van's occupants, which he copied into stills and set aside to send to Global Justice for positive identification.

Returning to the playback, he watched as Kim entered the frame, dropping her cell phone back into her purse just as she appeared. She rummaged through her bag while she walked and had just withdrawn her keys when she arrived between her car and the van. Wade suppressed an urge to cry out to her as the van's side door popped open and Peregrine—at least, he assumed that Peregrine was the only female occupant of the van besides Kim—struck the teen on the back of the head with what appeared to be a blackjack and dragged her through the door as the van pulled away, the door swinging shut shortly afterwards.

"Now the fun begins," the tech guru muttered to himself as he switched from the Middleton General security system to the surveillance cameras posted along the highway, not far from where they'd ditched the Kimmunicator. Every time the van would go by, he would switch ahead to the next camera and watch for them to go by again as a means of plotting the van's course; each camera that registered a positive sighting would place a green dot on the corresponding location on a Colorado road map he'd opened on a second screen. This continued until just before the New Mexico border, when a red dot appeared at the border crossing, indicating a negative sighting.

_So they got off at the last exit,_ he mused, picking up the telephone and dialing a number. It was answered on the third ring.

"Agent Rhonda Bartlett," a crisp feminine voice said.

"Agent Bartlett, this is Wade Load from Team Possible," Wade said, "Dr. Director gave me your direct line so I could contact you if I came across any clues on Phoenix that you may find useful… well, I think I did just that."

"I'd be grateful for your help, Dr. Load; we've hit a bit of a standstill," Bartlett said, instantly recognizing the name. Doctor Director had emailed her to advise her Wade might be calling if he found anything, so his call didn't come as a surprise.

"Please, call me Wade," the young phenom said, still not accustomed to being addressed as "doctor."

"Only if you'll call me Rhonda," the agent said with a smirk in her voice.

"Fair enough, Rhonda," Wade replied, chuckling slightly. "I've been going over surveillance and security camera footage and I've tracked Kim's abductors to just shy of the New Mexico border, where they turned off the highway and I've also got two clear facial pictures of the van's occupants; I'm emailing them to you now, along with the map that plots their known course."

Bartlett had a hard time containing her excitement as she brought her email client back up from the taskbar. "Wade, this might just be the break we're looking for," she said, opening the newly-arrived message and attachments. Her elation, however, was soon replaced with disappointment. "Then again, maybe not," she sighed, "the map puts them in the right general direction for that old airfield on the border, but we can't prove that they went there; they could've decided to backtrack or go the other way—for all we know, they went one way or the other and are headed for Kansas or Utah."

"I think I can fill that last piece in and this time I won't need to hack it," he replied with a chuckle. "Access the video records from the Global Justice surveillance satellite in the area and patch me into them; I have a theory that just might work."

"Okay," Bartlett said dubiously as she started entering her access codes; not because she doubted Wade's access levels—Dr. Director had approved Wade for Alpha-level access not long after Team Possible started working in conjunction with Global Justice—but because she was unsure what he had in mind. Regardless, she typed the final access code into her terminal before patching Wade into it. "There you go, Wade; it's all yours."

"Thanks, Rhonda," the young cracker replied as the feed appeared on his screen. Synchronizing the timestamp from the satellite feed to the one from the highway camera that had last come up with a positive contact with the van and zoomed in on the same part of the highway on the satellite's recording. It was a matter of moments before he positively identified the vehicle (thanking his lucky stars that while the license plates were bogus, the occupants never thought to change them) and locked the satellite recording onto it. Resuming playback, he watched as the zoomed-in footage tracked the navy-blue Ford along the highway before turning off just shy of the New Mexico border; a yellow indicator following the vehicle's progress on the same Colorado road map he'd tracked them on before.

"What're you doing, Wade?" Rhonda asked, still waiting on the telephone. She couldn't see what Wade was watching and was starting to get curious.

"I think I'm about to give Global Justice the reason it needs to infiltrate the suspected headquarters of the Phoenix Corporation," he replied with a smirk as the van turned off the side road and stopped at a gate. The driver rolled down his window and spoke briefly to a speaker mounted on a post beside the entrance before the gate opened and allowed the vehicle to proceed through.

"Please tell me you're not joking," Bartlett pleaded, "everything my team has found so far keeps bringing us to the same result: a dead-end."

"I'm not joking," he promised as he started composing an email. "I've just re-recorded every piece of video and audio evidence I've compiled since I started hunting for clues; from the hospital parking lot where Kim was assaulted and taken to the roadside webcams to the satellite footage you just gave me. It clearly shows the same van that Kim was dragged into leaving the hospital and traveling straight through to the suspected Phoenix headquarters without stopping; that means Kim is—or at least _was—_there."

Bartlett could hardly contain her excitement as Wade's email reached her inbox. "Wade, this is _awesome!"_ she cried as she started going through the attachments. "I'm gonna get this to Dr. Director ASAP; with this info we'll be able to move in no time flat!"

"Glad I could help," the teen guru said with a broad smile. "Keep me posted on anything you find."

"Count on it," the young agent said as she disconnected the call. Picking up the phone again, she dialed Dr. Director's extension, breathing deeply as she listened to the phone ring.

"Director," the crisp voice said midway through the second ring.

"Doctor, this is Rhonda Bartlett; I think you should come down here and see what Wade Load just sent me… I'm willing to bet he's just given us what we need to move on the Phoenix front."

"I'll be right there," the older woman said, hanging up the phone. Less than two minutes later, she had appeared beside Bartlett's desk. "Alright, Rhonda; what kind of magic has Dr. Load cooked up for us today?"

"Check this out," Bartlett replied, calling up the satellite feed Wade had re-recorded using the zoom setting. "Once he positively identified this as the vehicle used in Kim's abduction using roadside webcams and the security cameras in the Middleton General parking lot, he got me to access SATSPY4's video logs and patch them through to him. He zoomed in and found the vehicle and tracked it to the location we've long suspected as being the headquarters of the Phoenix Corporation but haven't been able to prove it."

"I'm glad he's on our side," Director muttered—not for the first time—before addressing Bartlett again. "Good work on both yours and Dr. Load's parts, Rhonda; round your team up and meet me in Conference Two in one hour for briefing and final preparation. I have to go notify a couple of people before we can move."

"Yes, ma'am," Bartlett said, turning back to her desk and picking up the telephone to contact her team members.

* * *

At the Possible home, James and Anne Possible were seated in the breakfast nook with Dean and Jean Stoppable across from them, all holding cups of mostly-ignored coffee. Conversation was stilted at best, shunned for the most part in favor of silence as they all waited for any news on Kim. As they were expecting updates to come via telephone, it surprised all of them when the doorbell rang.

"I really hope the media hasn't got wind of this," Anne said as she rose to see who was at the door, "the last thing I need right now is to talk to a bunch of pushy reporters."

Her husband followed her with a cordless telephone in his hand. "If it is the media, I'll call the police and have them removed for trespassing," he replied grimly.

Arriving at the front door, the neurosurgeon looked through the peephole before letting out a sigh of relief. "It's okay, James," she said as she unlocked and opened the door, "it's just Kate."

Sure enough, standing on the other side of the door was Kate Gogh, her hands in her pockets and a dejected look on her face. "Don't suppose you'd like some company?" she said with a shrug.

"Of course, Kate; come in," Anne said, standing aside to admit the former villainess. "I'm assuming you already know about Kim?" she added once the door was closed again.

"Yeah, I managed to track down her Kimmunicator and give it to Wade; he's working on the evidence he gathered from it," Kate replied as she followed the older woman back to the kitchen, greeting the Stoppables with a slight nod and a bare hint of a smile. "Knowing him, he'll have something nailed down in no time flat."

"So what brings you here?" James asked as he returned from the dining room with an extra chair for the young woman to sit in.

With a small smile of gratitude, Kate sat down as she answered. "Well, basically I didn't feel like going back to my place and thought maybe this would be the place to wait for any news," she said with a shrug.

"That's perfectly fine with us," Anne said as she placed a mug full of coffee in front of the mint-skinned woman before returning to her seat beside her husband, "and you're more than welcome to stop by anytime."

"Thanks," Kate said with sincerity as she added cream and sugar to her coffee before taking a sip. She was about to say something else when the sounds of two pairs of feet running down the stairs interrupted her. "What the…?"

Jim and Tim appeared in the doorway to the kitchen from the living room, both wearing broad smiles. "Wade just found Kim! He just got off the phone with Global Justice; they're gonna be moving out in an hour!"

"Does he know if she's alright?" James asked, dread in his voice.

"He hasn't actually seen her, but he tracked the vehicle she was in to an old airfield on the New Mexico border, about an hour and a half from here," Tim replied. "They never stopped from the time they snatched Kim, so she's there somewhere."

At that moment the telephone rang, drawing everyone's attention. Anne picked up the handset on the table and answered it on the second ring. "Hello… yes, this is she… why, of course I remember you, Yori… you're in luck, dear; she's right here, just one second." Removing the phone from her ear, she passed it to Kate. "It's for you; Ron's friend Yori."

Kate accepted the phone and placed it to her ear with a bewildered expression. "Hello?"

"Kate-san, I have some most disturbing news," Yori said with a note of—was it _fear?—_in her voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Ron-kun has left the hospital."

"_What?"_

"He awoke not long after I got off the telephone with Wade-sama to inform him of what happened," the ninja explained. "All he said was Kim-chan was in trouble and that he needed to go to her immediately. I attempted to stop him with no success."

"I'll be right there," Kate said, hanging up as she rose from her seat. Turning to the Stoppables, she decided to just come out with the truth. "Looks like Ron's on the loose," she said, "he knows Kim's in trouble and is going out to find her."

"But he's not supposed to be moving yet!" Jean Stoppable exclaimed in horror. "How did he ever find out?"

"That's what I'm going to go find out," the former villainess stated dryly as she started for the door, "and then I'm gonna see if I can track him down; I'll keep you posted."

"Thank you, Kate; for everything," Anne said with a smile of gratitude.

Kate stopped and turned to look at the two families sitting at the table, a look of determination in her eyes. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Dr. Director," she said softly, "Kim and Ron are the first real friends I've had in a long time and I'll be damned if I'm going to let them down now." With that, she left the house, the roar of the big car's V8 engine announcing her departure.

"All we can do now is hope and pray," James Possible said softly, taking his wife's hand in his own.

_

* * *

A/N: Well, if this isn't just a strange turn of events! First Kim gets kidnapped, now Ron's taking off from the hospital before he's healed up? That can't be good… can it? I'll never tell; at least, not until the next chapter comes out. All I'm going to say here is things are coming to a head and many things will be explained and revealed in the next chapter._

_Thanks again for reading; leave a review, get a response!_

_Cheers,  
Deuce_


	14. Chapter Thirteen

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__ The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series Kim Possible are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_

* * *

A/N: After several delays (not to mention a wicked case of writer's block), here is Chapter Thirteen for your reading and reviewing pleasure! Thanks to jkrust78, dbzgtfan2004, screaming phoenix, shana elmsford, KP's Man, CajunBear73 and Katsumara for reviewing on the last chapter and to all those who've added my story to their favorites. As always, those reviews and additions are what keep the fire burning._

_On that note; enjoy!_

_**

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN**_

As soon as Yori was off the phone with Kate, she left the hospital room and made her way outside in hopes of tracking down the young man, mutterings that sounded awfully like _"baka gaijin"_ escaping her lips as she crossed the street to the parking lot. Seeing no sign of him, she continued in the general direction of where Kim's car had been parked when she was abducted, hoping to at least find a clue.

She had just about arrived at the loudly-colored car when she heard the roar of an American-built V8 engine approaching. Spinning around, she was about to drop into a defensive crouch when she saw the source of the sound.

"Get in," Kate said, stopping her car perpendicular to Kim's hatchback. Yori complied and climbed into the passenger's side, the former villainess driving away before she could even get her door shut.

"You certainly did not waste time, Kate-san," she quipped as she fastened her seatbelt.

"Well, when you find out that one of your best friends has been kidnapped and the other one—who's supposed to be healing from a gunshot wound—decides to up and fuck off from the hospital before he's even healed, you tend to not dick around," Kate replied, flashing her Global Justice credentials to the rent-a-cop at the parking gate.

"Of course," the Japanese woman said simply.

"So you tried to stop Ron when he left, right?" the mint-skinned woman said as she merged into traffic. "What did he say to you, or did he basically tell you to go pound sand?"

"Not long after I finished speaking on the telephone with Wade-sama, Ron-kun awakened and told me he knew Kim-chan was in trouble. I asked him if he'd overheard me speaking to Wade-sama and he said no; he told me he saw it in his mind's eye and said he must go to her. When I asked him to remain where he was and to allow himself to heal, he merely told me that this was something he had to do and nothing would stop him. I gave him opportunity to leave the room before I called you and advised you of the situation. I did not wish to deceive him in such a manner, but I saw no other alternative."

"That's okay, Yori; you did the best you could," Kate said, picking her cell phone up from its resting place between the seats. Flipping it open, she called one of the numbers on her contact list and placed the device to her ear. "Wade, it's Kate," she said after a moment.

"Hey Kate, where are you?"

"You even have to ask me? I'm just leaving the hospital."

"Sorry, I don't actively track you unless I need to," the tech guru replied.

"Fair enough; I just picked Yori up in the hospital parking lot," she said, her eyes flickering briefly towards the ninja beside her. "She said that Ron told her he was going to save Kim—apparently he had a vision that told him she was in trouble—and he wasn't taking no for an answer."

"Sounds like Ron," Wade chuckled, "he can be the most absent-minded and random guy you know; but once he's got his mind set on something he's got focus like you wouldn't believe."

"I know," she muttered, a vague recollection of his Zorpox days sending a shudder up her spine. "I guess the next question is do you have any suggestions on how we track Monkey Boy down?"

"Actually, I do," the teen replied. "Some time ago I planted a tracking chip on him so we would be able to track him—mostly for if he got captured or lost. He was pretty upset when we told him about it, but when I explained why Kim and I thought it would be a good idea and I told him I would only use it if we absolutely needed to find him, he warmed up to it."

"How detailed of a chip is it?"

"It's just a basic RFID chip; all it does is tells me where it's located at any given time… and right now it looks like he's in his bedroom at his house."

"Can you send that to the GPS unit in the car?"

"Already done," Wade replied. Sure enough, the GPS unit mounted on the dashboard of Kate's car lit up with directions to Ron's house from her current position.

"Kimmie always said you had the world wired," she quipped as she looked at the readout. As luck would have it, they were only two blocks away and managed to arrive in less than a minute, the Crown Vic's tires squealing lightly in protest as the jade-hued woman behind the wheel swung the big car in the driveway. "Is he still here?" she asked the tech guru, having kept him on the line the whole time.

"Yeah, he's still in his bedroom; his car's in the garage, so he might be headed for that next."

"Well, let's just make sure he can't get anywhere without giving us some answers," she muttered, easing the sedan's front bumper up to the garage until there was only about two inches between the front license plate and the garage door. Shutting the car off, she got out and took a cursory look around the yard for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing, she spoke again. "I'm gonna see if I can go in and at least talk to him, Wade; Yori'll keep watch out here," she said, shooting an inquisitive glance at the young ninja, who nodded in agreement.

"Okay; call me back if you have any trouble," Wade said before hanging up.

Kate snapped the phone shut and stuck it back in her pocket before starting up the walkway to the house. Behind her, she could hear Yori climb out of the car and stand in the driveway to keep watch. Nodding in approval to herself, she strode up to the front door and tried it. _Unlocked; that's a good sign._

Stepping across the threshold, she looked around for any signs of Ron's presence. Seeing none right away, she pushed the door shut behind her and proceeded through the house with all five senses on high alert. As she approached the staircase that led to the upper floors, she remembered she wasn't stalking an enemy and decided to quit playing _Pink Panther._ "Ron?" she called up the stairs. "It's me, Kate; can I come up?"

Rather than yell a response, Ron came down the second flight of stairs that led to his attic bedroom and stopped at the head of the first staircase. "Hey Kate," he said, pulling his gloves on as he continued down the stairs, "what're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," she deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just what in the hell are you trying to prove, anyway? You know you've got your parents _and_ your in-laws—oh, come on; you know it's gonna happen—worried sick about you right now?"

"I'm fine, Kate; really," he said with a shrug, pulling up his shirttail far enough to show her the wound—or lack thereof.

Kate couldn't believe her eyes when she saw it. Instead of a red, raw mess of a hole with stitches sticking out of it, Ron's abdomen sported a scar similar to the one she had; albeit a little larger in diameter and accompanied by an incision scar about three inches long. "How the hell…?"

"Do you really need to ask that question?" Ron interjected, his eyes flickering blue for the slightest moment.

"Point taken," she acquiesced. "So how are you gonna explain that one to the doctors?"

"Cross that bridge when we come to it," he said as he started for the door. "I'm assuming Wade figured out where I was?"

"Yeah, he was on that the second Yori told him you'd left your hospital room," the green-hued woman said as she followed the young man through the door, stopping long enough to let him close and lock it. "We were scared you were just gonna take off to find Kim still in your johnny shirt."

"Even with as many 'wardrobe malfunctions' as I've had, I wouldn't be headed out to try and save Kim with my bare backside hanging out," Ron said dryly as they approached the car standing in the driveway. "I'm guessing you wanted to make sure I didn't get away?" he said when he noticed the proximity of the Ford's front bumper to the garage door.

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't decide to do exactly what you wanted us to keep Kim from doing," she said, motioning for him to get in the car. Yori, taking the initiative of being the smaller of the two, had already taken the back seat.

"I actually planned on getting hold of you after I finished getting ready, but you beat me to it," he said once he'd climbed in the passenger's seat.

"Why would you not tell me your plans when you left the hospital, Ron-kun?" the young ninja asked as Kate backed the car out of the driveway.

"I just wanted to get moving; I figured it would work out faster if I contacted you guys once I was on the move and we could meet somewhere along the way," he replied with a shrug.

"Does it really matter one way or another?" Kate interjected as she fished her cell phone from her pocket. "At least this way we can concentrate on finding Kim."

"The sooner the better," Ron added grimly, his gaze locked on the windshield and the road beyond.

"No kidding," Kate agreed as she put the phone to her ear, having just re-dialed Wade's number again. "Wade, Kate here; I just picked Ron up and we're on our way to Phoenix headquarters."

"You're kidding, right?" Wade said in disbelief. "You're really taking him back to the hospital where he belongs… _right?"_

"Long story, Wade; just trust me when I tell you that he's in fighting form and is ready to kick Phoenix ass for screwing with Team Possible," the former villainess said, casting a quick wink and a smirk at the young man seated next to her. "All we need now is the airfield's location uploaded to the car's GPS."

"Okay," the teen guru said dubiously, sending the requested coordinates to the unit mounted on the Crown Vic's dashboard. "I've just been talking to Dr. Director; she said Agent Rhonda Bartlett's team has been deployed to the Phoenix base and will stand by on the perimeter; they'll be deferring to us this time."

_That should help matters,_ Kate thought to herself. "Good; tell them we'll be in touch if we need them," she said before hanging up. On the dashboard, the GPS unit had lit up with the quickest route from their current position to the Phoenix Corporation's headquarters highlighted in red. Casting a brief glance in the rear-view mirror at the Japanese woman seated in the back, she then turned to look at Ron. "Time to see what this grocery-getter can do," she said with a sadistic smirk as she pressed the accelerator to the floor.

As soon as Wade disconnected from speaking with Kate, he picked the phone right back up and dialed the Possible residence. He wasn't the least bit surprised when Anne Possible picked up the phone before the first ring had even completed. "Please tell me you have good news," she said, not even bothering to say hello.

"As a matter of fact, I have," he replied with the barest hint of a smile in his voice. "Kate just found Ron and he's okay."

"Oh, thank God," the neurosurgeon breathed, "is she bringing him back to the hospital?"

"No," the young tech phenom replied with a hint of trepidation, "they're on their way to find and rescue Kim."

Anne Possible exploded in a way that would make proponents to the stereotype surrounding redheads and their tempers proud. _"What?"_ she bellowed, her grip on the telephone tightening to the point her knuckles whitened. "What the _hell_ are they thinking? Ron's in no condition to be out gallivanting around like that!"

"That's what I said," he replied, hoping to placate her, "but Kate assured me he's okay and ready to go back into action."

"I don't believe this," the neurosurgeon seethed, "but there's not much I can do about it right now. I will, however, tell you this," she continued, her voice dangerously low, "if anything—and I mean _anything—_happens to him as a direct result of complications with his injury, rest assured I'm holding that green-skinned bitch solely responsible."

"I-I'll… pass that along," Wade stammered, sweat beading on his brow. "I'll keep you up to speed on any developments."

"I would expect nothing less of you, Wade," the elder redhead said in a softer voice before hanging up.

"Anne?" Dean Stoppable said, looking at his friend with a questioning gaze. "What was that all about?"

Sighing, Anne slumped back into her seat at the kitchen table and rested her elbows on the table before dropping her head into her hands, fingers woven through her red tresses. "Ron is apparently going with Kate to save Kim," she said in a voice devoid of emotion.

"But he's still hurt!" Jean exclaimed, her eyes wide in shock. "How could he possibly be in any condition to go on a mission like that?"

"Apparently he's in better shape than we thought; Wade said that Kate reassured him Ron was okay… for now we'll have to trust them."

"We can only pray they're right," James Possible murmured, a thousand-yard stare on his face.

_

* * *

I don't care what anybody says; being a prisoner just plain sucks,_ Kim thought as she sat in a lotus position on the bunk in her cell. In the short time she'd been imprisoned, she'd taken the time to examine her injuries (nothing serious, but she was pretty sure she'd have to go see the dentist about a loose molar), performed some of her favorite kata (under the watchful and lecherous eye of the guard stationed outside her door) and practiced a few of the meditation techniques Ron and his Sensei had taught her; the last of which she was just finishing.

Breathing a heavy sigh, the lithe redhead unfolded her legs and stood back up, walking softly to the heavy steel door that separated her room from the rest of the complex. Peering through the Plexiglas window set into the steel, she could see the single armed guard that stood to the side of the door, his Uzi submachine gun resting lightly in his hands, the brunt of its weight being taken by the sling over his shoulder—apparently he'd lost interest in watching her when she switched from her kata to meditation. Other than that, she could see no sign of anybody else in the corridor, giving her the faintest notion of an idea. At first she dismissed the idea as ludicrous the second it passed through her mind; but as she continued to ponder on it, the more plausible it seemed. _It's worth a shot, if nothing else,_ she mused, _but if somebody's watching it could blow the entire plan._

Stepping away from the door, the teen heroine did another circuit of her less-than-spacious accommodations, this time surreptitiously stealing glances into the corners and at other objects planted around the room, inspecting them for the possibility of concealing security cameras. If she found any, she knew she would have to find another way of possibly getting away from her captors; a way that wouldn't involve what she had in mind. _If I really even want to go through with it,_ she mused, _but right now I don't see another choice._

For the first time since she'd first been abducted in Middleton, however, luck was on her side. Following her complete inspection of the room, the former cheerleader found no signs of any concealed (or non-concealed) cameras, prompting her to put her plan into action as she stopped in front of the mirror mounted on the wall above the sink. _If I'm gonna pull this off, I have to look the part,_ she thought as she took down her ponytail, wrapping the elastic around her wrist and running her fingers through her hair, teasing it back to life. While it didn't completely return to its usual body and luster, it was better than leaving it pulled back; at least, for what she had in mind.

On the other side of the door, the guard peeked through the window just as Kim had started adjusting her hair and attire and was, quite frankly, enjoying the show. Ever since he'd been assigned guard duty, he'd been stealing glances into the cell and lusting after the young woman inside, especially when he saw how gracefully she moved through her kata. Now that she'd taken her hair down, he found her almost irresistible… especially considering the outfit she wore left little to the imagination.

Kim chose that moment to look towards the door, catching the guard red-handed in staring at her. Rather than scowl or flip him off as he expected, however, the nubile redhead instead gazed at him through half-lidded eyes and smiled coyly, her thumbs hooked into the waistband of her shorts and pushing them dangerously low on her hips, exposing part of the stringy waistband of her underwear.

He watched, mesmerized by her movements as she sashayed towards the door, her gaze never leaving his. When she got within three steps of the door, she stopped and turned around, looking over her shoulder and winking at the guard as she started back towards the far wall, swinging her hips in much the same fashion she had when she left Ron's hospital room.

_God I hope this works; I feel like such a tramp,_ she thought as she slowly sauntered away, making sure the waistband of her shorts rode low enough to expose the top edge of her thong to the guard. Normally she would only tease Ron in such a fashion and then only in private, which only served to further her discomfort with the situation, regardless of how necessary she deemed it to be.

Meanwhile, the guard outside the door was having a hard time concentrating on actually being a guard. As a result of Kim's display, his blood supply had left its usual channels and was being directed and focused on a single part of his anatomy. As a famous comedian once noted, _"God must have a sense of humor, for He gave man two heads… and only enough blood to run one at a time,"_ resulting in a serious lack of judgment on the guard's part as he withdrew the electronic key to the cell from his shirt pocket and ran it through the reader connected to the doorknob.

Kim stepped closer to the door when she heard the tone indicating the lock had been disengaged, followed by the door opening noiselessly on well-oiled hinges. Aiming a disarming smile at her captor (while she tried to keep her lunch inside her churning guts), she took two steps closer to him. "Hey there, hot stuff," she murmured huskily, "I've had my eye on you."

"No funny stuff," he warned in an unsteady voice as he pointed the Uzi at her.

"Too bad," she pouted, placing her hands on the clasp fastening her shorts, "I was kinda hoping for some _funny stuff."_

"So Little Miss Perfect ain't the sugar-sweet girl-next-door that everybody makes her out to be, huh?" the guard said with a smirk as he took another step forward, his eyes never leaving his prisoner's hands.

"Oh, not even close," the redhead replied; her voice barely above a whisper as she matched the guard's pace, step for step, one eye surreptitiously watching the Uzi's muzzle start to droop. "Nothing makes me hotter than being helpless in a prison cell; why do you think I let Drakken capture me so many times? The ways Shego used her hands…" she trailed off, her eyes closing as she slipped two fingertips under the waistband of her shorts with a low moan.

"So you really are a dyke?" the guard replied, sounding disappointed and breathless at the same time.

"Bi," Kim countered, her eyes still open in bare slits, but appearing closed to the guard, "I like women, but sometimes nothing beats the feeling of man-meat between my legs." _Now I'm sounding like a cheap porno._ "Have you got what I need?"

"Oh, fuck yeah," the guard replied as he started to struggle with his belt, his weapon hanging forgotten from his shoulder. He was within Kim's reach by that point and wasn't prepared when she sprang forward and drove her right elbow into his face, breaking his nose. Before he had a chance to reach for the Uzi again, she followed up with a right knee into his groin, doubling him over in pain.

"Wrong, scumbag; the proper term is 'fuck _you',"_ she growled, all pretense of an aroused submissive replaced by an enraged and disgusted sneer as she finished him with a kick to the chin, ignoring the short burst of pain that shot through her bare foot. Without a sound, the guard straightened to full height before falling on his back, unconscious. Quickly re-fastening the button of her shorts, Kim wasted no time in stripping the man of his weaponry—along with the Uzi, he carried a Glock 17 on his right hip, extra clips for both it and the Uzi on his belt and a Bowie knife on his boot—and the keycard for the cell before locking him inside. "Pervert," she muttered just before closing the door.

_Okay, Kim; you've got yourself out of the cell after making yourself out to be the biggest slut this side of Vegas; now you've gotta get out of the building before they miss you and snag you again,_ she thought as she started sprinting down the hallway. With the Uzi slung across her chest, the Glock in her right hand and the Bowie knife in its sheath on her waistband at the small of her back, she made her way to the first intersection and peered around the corner, holding the pistol in a perfect Weaver grip at the ready. Seeing nobody, she dashed around the corner and continued along the wall, peeking behind her at various intervals to make sure nobody popped up behind her.

Kim continued in this manner for about three corridors before she started getting nervous. _I haven't seen anybody yet, but God only knows how long that'll hold out,_ she mused, stopping at the intersection of yet another corridor. Deciding she liked her chances better if she got out of the hallways, the teen backtracked to a door she'd just passed and stopped beside it, pressing her ear against it to listen for any signs of life. Hearing none, she tried the knob and, finding it unlocked, slowly turned it and slipped inside, quickly and silently closing it again before studying the room in greater detail.

As it turned out, Kim had stumbled upon an emergency stairwell. Judging by the amount of dust along the railings and the state of disrepair the lights were in, she figured it didn't get used all that often. _Alright, things are starting to look up,_ she mused as she started up the concrete stairs, mindful to keep out of sight of the doorways on each floor. _Just hope nobody decides to feel especially active and take the stairs while I'm in here,_ she thought wryly as looked up at the upper levels.

Kim didn't realize it, but she couldn't have chosen a better time to leave the hallways and start up the stairs. Mere moments after she'd ducked into the stairwell, an armed guard turned the corner and backtracked the course the teen had just traveled; on his way to relieve the guard that had been stationed outside her cell. "Why do they always have to give _me_ graveyard guard duty?" he grumbled to himself as he marched through the corridor. "Craig's been here less time than I have, why didn't _he_ get graveyard?"

As he turned the corner to the corridor where Kim's cell was located, however, he could immediately tell something was amiss. Grabbing the H&K MP5 submachine gun that was hanging casually over his shoulder, he quickly dashed to the door and looked inside. When he saw the guard he was supposed to be relieving lying on the floor with a bloody nose and a busted chin, he knew everything had just gone down the crapper.

"Shit," he muttered as he grabbed the two-way radio he wore on his belt. "Macau to security; come in."

"_Security here; go ahead, Macau,"_ the tinny voice responded almost immediately.

"Security breach in Holding Area One; prisoner has escaped and is assumed armed. One man is down; appears to still be alive."

"_Affirmative, Macau; sending reinforcements and med staff your way,"_ the security agent replied, at the same time sounding the alarm to alert the personnel of the situation.

"Ten-four," Macau said, replacing the radio on his belt before using his own keycard to open the door. As he entered, the guard lying on the floor started coming around. "Craig?"

"Oh, man… what the fuck…?" Craig moaned, sitting up. "What happened?"

"I should be asking you what happened, you dumbass!" Macau snapped, grabbing Craig by the collar and pulling him onto his feet. "How in the reign of Christ did you ever manage to let that little bitch turn the tables on you?"

"It was her fault!" the injured guard whined. "She started prancing around, playing with herself and telling me she wanted a good fuck and when I came in to give her what she wanted, she sucker-punched me!"

"And you fell for it!" Macau roared, tempted to knock the incompetent guard out again. "Jesus Christ, Craig; I always knew you weren't exactly a bright boy, but I didn't think even you could be this fucking _stupid!_ Now we gotta comb this whole complex from the bottom up and try to find that little bitch before she gets away… all because you were thinking with your dick!"

"My team will look after that, Macau; you just take your little bitch over to the infirmary to get that nose looked at… I'm willing to bet it hurts like hell."

Macau whirled around to face the newcomer. "Fuck off, Peregrine; this is none of your concern," he snapped.

"Not my concern, huh?" the young mercenary echoed, her eyebrow quirked. "Catching Kim Possible will make my career, asshole! If she gets away, my reputation's shot! As it is Hawk's client is here to pick her up; now I have to tell him she got away!"

"And that's none of _my_ concern, Peregrine," Macau replied with a sneer as he escorted Craig out of the room to the waiting medic.

"Dumb fucks," she muttered under her breath, "I knew I should've killed that trollop when I had the chance." Turning on her heel, she returned to the hallway and stopped beside Macau and Craig; the latter of the two having his broken nose tended to. "What did you have on you for weapons, Craig?"

"A Glock 17, an Uzi and a Bowie knife," he replied, wincing as the medic touched his nose.

"Fuck," Peregrine muttered as she pulled her phone from her pocket. Dialing a number from memory, she placed the device to her ear. "Buzzard; Peregrine here… yeah, I know; I'm down here now with the shithead that let it happen… good; check the elevators and the stairwells and tell your crews that whoever finds her is to hang onto her and wait for me… I don't give a fuck what Hawk said, this is what I'm telling you; Possible is _mine!"_ With that, she snapped the phone shut and replaced it in her pocket and turned to face Macau again. "When the medic's done with horn-dog over there, throw him back in that cell; I'm not done with him," she said, stalking off in search of her prey.

"I wonder if I should waste my time on you," the medic mused causally once Peregrine was out of earshot. "It wouldn't surprise me in the least if Peregrine just plain kills you for letting Possible get away… and all because you wanted to get your dicky sticky." Macau shook his head in disbelief as Craig's eyes went wide in near-panic at the statement.

* * *

"You're stalling."

Hawk looked across his desk at the two men seated there incredulously. "I'm stalling?" he repeated. "Whatever makes you think that?"

"You knew I was coming and at approximately what time I would arrive," the same man said, his voice no longer distorted, "which should have given you ample opportunity to ensure she was prepared for my arrival."

"She's locked up in a cell in a different building," Hawk retorted indignantly, "it takes time to prepare a prisoner to move from one location to another."

"I'm well aware of prisoner transportation protocols, Mr. Hawk," the client replied flatly, "but you could have started the preparation process when you got off the telephone with me rather than wait until my arrival, saving both of us precious time."

Hawk was about to offer a retort when there was a quick knock on his door, followed by Peregrine walking in brazenly. "We need to talk… in _private,"_ she said, emphasizing the last word for the benefit of the man's guests.

"Very well, Peregrine; if you gentlemen would be so kind as to wait outside, I'm sure this won't take a minute," the enigmatic man said, motioning to the door with his left hand.

"Somehow I think it would be in our best interests to hear whatever it is this young lady has to say," the man said with a smirk, remaining in his seat.

"Boss, I really think…"

"I don't pay you to _think,_ Peregrine; that's my job," Hawk snapped, slamming his palm on his desk. "Now what's so important that you had to interrupt my meeting with our clients?"

"You're the boss," Peregrine shrugged, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Possible's loose and armed."

"_What?_ How did she manage to get away?"

"Craig Forsythe was on guard duty and apparently thinks more with his cock than he does with his brain," she replied dryly. "He decided to go in and try to get a piece and she got the drop on him."

"I believe I warned you of the repercussions of underestimating Kim Possible," Hawk's client interjected knowingly.

"Fuck me," the Phoenix chief muttered under his breath before speaking to Peregrine again. "How far has she gotten and what are we doing to fix it?"

"We've got her confined to the hangar building; she was locked up in one of the holding cells in the basement. As soon as we found out she'd escaped we put the entire security team on high alert; nobody's been in or out of the building in the last fifteen minutes, so we know she's still in there somewhere."

"Are you _absolutely_ sure?" the client challenged smugly. "In my past experiences, Kim Possible has proven to be slipperier than a greased eel; several times I've seen her escape an impossible trap with seemingly no effort… obviously she's done so again with her ingenuity—and a little help from her feminine wiles, I'm sure—so who's to say she's even still on the property?"

For the first time since they found out about the security breach, Peregrine felt a hint of doubt creep into her mind. How long was it between Kim Possible's escape and when it was discovered? How _could_ they be sure she was still in the hangar building? If enough time had elapsed following her escape, she could easily have snuck off without anybody noticing. Sure, the area was mostly desert, but there were still patches of scrub and knolls that a person could easily hide behind to avoid detection. "I'll broaden the search area," she growled in an undertone before spinning on her heel to leave the office.

"I hope for your sake that your staff manages to find Miss Possible," the client said coldly, drawing a Walther PPK from his jacket pocket, "or else things could end badly for you."

Hawk stared in shock at the weapon currently being pointed at his forehead. "What the fuck is this shit?" he demanded indignantly, moving his right hand toward a concealed silent alarm button under his desk.

"Hands where I can see them, Mr. Hawk," the man cautioned, his finger curling around the trigger of his weapon. "If you sound any type of alarm, I will not hesitate to kill you where you sit."

Realizing his options were slim, the Phoenix figurehead nodded and withdrew his hands from under the desk, the emergency signal remaining untouched. "Fine, we'll play it your way," he muttered, placing his hands on top of the polished wooden surface.

"I knew you would see things my way," the client smirked, leaning back in his seat; the barrel of his PPK never wavering.

"You do realize how long it might take them to find her, right?"

"I've told you before, Mr. Hawk; I am a patient man when the need arises… I have no problem with waiting as long as it takes to get what I want."

_

* * *

Okay, this level's got two doors… could I be so lucky?_ Kim wondered as she hit the second landing up from her starting point. Unlike the previous level, this landing had a door on either side of the stairwell, opposite each other. With an extra-cautious step, the redhead crept over to the door to her right and peeked through the glass, immediately suppressing a cry of joy when she saw the night sky and solid ground beyond it.

Her elation was short-lived, however, when she saw the number of armed guards wandering around the premises not six feet from where she stood. Sighing, she ducked away from the window and pressed herself up to the wall beside the door. _Obviously they know I got out,_ she thought, _so how do I get out of here without getting caught?_ Creeping across the landing to the other door, she eased it open as quietly as she could and slipped through the smallest space as she could.

Looking around the vast expanse of the room she'd just entered, Kim knew instantly she'd stumbled upon the same hangar bay where she'd first been so unceremoniously delivered to the Phoenix Corporation. Closing the heavy steel stairwell door as silently as she could, the redhead crouched low and crept along the wall, her eyes constantly scanning for feasible means of escape.

Her entry hadn't gone unnoticed, however. Across the massive space, a member of the Phoenix security team had seen her slip through the door and managed to duck behind the same Ford cargo van she'd originally been delivered in before she saw him. Peeking around the rear corner of the van, he watched her slip along the wall and disappear behind a flat-black, first generation Hummer.

Grinning maliciously to himself, the man took the MP5 he carried and put it up to his shoulder, watching through the sights for the teen to emerge from behind the utility vehicle. He was rewarded moments later when Kim emerged from the other side of the Hummer, unaware he had the drop on her. "Hold it right there!" he called out as he stepped out from behind the van.

Kim reacted the nanosecond she heard the man's voice, diving back behind the Hummer she'd just come from behind; the chatter of his submachine gun following her. "Damn," she muttered, double-checking the Glock in her hands, "I really didn't want to get into a firefight… especially if I'm gonna end up outnumbered."

"C'mon, Possible; there's no way out!" the man yelled, still standing in front of the van. "I've got backup on the way; you'll be outnumbered in no time!"

_He's probably right, but I'm not going down without a fight,_ she thought. "Check my name, buddy!" she called out, moving into position as she spoke. "Anything's possible for a Possible!"

"You mean like getting that pretty little head of yours shot full of lead? Fuckin' right!" he retorted, slowly advancing on Kim's position.

By this time Kim had worked her way into a prone position underneath the Hummer, managing to remain hidden from her adversary's view while still able to see his feet as he started across the floor. Smirking to herself, the teen brought her Glock to bear and took careful aim, drawing a deep breath through her mouth and holding it before she squeezed the trigger. With a howl of pain, the man collapsed to the floor, his hands flying to his now-ruined kneecap, his MP5 clattering forgotten to the floor.

As soon as she'd fired, Kim rolled out from under the Hummer and climbed to her feet, her ears still ringing from the report of the pistol within the enclosed space under the vehicle. Ignoring the self-inflicted tinnitus, the redhead strode quickly to where the man laid, blood oozing between his fingers from the wound in his knee. "Where are the keys to the Hummer?" she asked, keeping the Glock's muzzle directed at his face.

"You ain't got the guts to kill me," he snarled, his face contorted in pain as he eyed his submachine gun laying a foot from his head.

"Oh, I have no intention of killing you," Kim replied, placing her foot on the MP5's chassis, "but I can make sure you live the rest of your life in misery. As it is you'll never walk properly again… one more shot and you'll never _walk_ again, period… not to mention it'll hurt like a son-of-a-bitch."

"You wouldn't…"

"Not if you don't give me a reason to," she said truthfully, "but if you didn't learn your lesson the first time, then I may have to… are you willing to risk it?"

He hesitated for a brief moment; trying to size up the young woman standing in front of him. Of course he, like just about everybody else on the planet, knew who Kim Possible was and what she stood for, but he was having a hard time reconciling that image with the woman that stood before him. Realizing that her Glock never wavered, however, prompted him to decide discretion was the better part of valor as he placed his hands palm-down on the floor and laid his head back, closing his eyes. "Keys are in a cabinet over the workbench on the far wall," he muttered, the pain creeping into his voice.

"Smart man," Kim said with a smirk as she took her foot off the gun and picked it up, one eye constantly on the injured man to ensure he made no sudden moves. "I think I should probably take this with me so you don't shoot me in the back, don't you?" she said cheerily, slinging it across her chest in the opposite direction of the Uzi she already carried. Reaching down, she quickly frisked the man to confirm he had no other weapons he could use on her while she had her back turned; the entire time her Glock remaining trained on either his left knee or his right shoulder. He was in enough pain that he wouldn't put up a fight, but the redheaded heroine didn't like the idea of taking chances.

Satisfied the man was secured, Kim jogged across the hangar to the cabinet he'd directed her to. Opening it, she immediately started scanning through the myriad of keyrings hanging on the pegs within, hoping to find the one that belonged to the Hummer without too much trouble.

"Don't make another move, Possible."

Kim froze stock-still, the unexpected voice catching her off-guard. She knew the voice didn't belong to the man she'd already encountered, which had to mean somebody else had just gotten the drop on her. _This just went from bad to worse,_ she thought.

"Hands in the air and take your gun in your left hand by the barrel," the voice said, emphasizing the statement with the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

"Okay, just stay cool," Kim said in a calm voice. Holding her hands slightly higher than her head, she slowly transferred the Glock from her right hand to her left, holding it by the barrel, upside-down.

"Turn around," the voice said.

Using slow, deliberate movements, Kim turned around to face the speaker, making sure to not make any move that could be considered hostile. When she saw who the owner of the voice—which she'd thought sounded familiar—was, though, her face contorted in rage. "Peregrine," she seethed.

Sure enough, Peregrine stood facing the teen with a SIG P220 aimed directly at her. "Good girl," the young mercenary said with a feral grin. "Now, take the submachine guns by their slings and put them on the floor."

"Tell me something," Kim said conversationally as she fulfilled the other woman's request, "why didn't you just kill me? You had the drop on me and I know for a fact you would love nothing more than to put a hole in my skull, yet now that you have a golden opportunity to, you haven't; why not?"

"Oh, it's taking a lot of willpower on my part to not squeeze this trigger… but money talks," the slightly-older woman said. "If I kill you, I don't get paid—simple as that."

"That's what I thought," Kim said as she placed the Uzi beside the already-dropped MP5 at her feet. As she straightened back up, she surreptitiously slipped the index finger of her left hand inside the trigger guard of her Glock, the maneuver going unnoticed by the mercenary across from her.

"Not that you would understand the thought of turning a profit," Peregrine sneered, "what with your holier-than-thou attitude and idealistic morals… quite frankly, the thought that you'd even consider using that gun shocks the hell out of me."

"I've explained that before to others," Kim replied. "Once you have your eyes opened to reality, you realize that your ideals—as honorable and optimistic as they may be—might not be realistic enough to be feasible."

"You're right, y'know," the mercenary chuckled wryly. "I was a lot like you once… I used to believe in the good of people and the world in general. The more I read and saw in the news and on TV, though, the more I realized that only two things matter in this world—money and power—and they go hand-in-hand… which is why I joined Phoenix."

"I don't understand," Kim probed, hoping to keep her talking and—if she was lucky—distracted.

"I used to be with the Go City PD SWAT team," Peregrine replied with a hint of disdain, "as a sniper. Even then I was still an idealistic kid, but it all changed last year. We were dispatched to a hostage situation—not that different than the one you were involved with in Lowerton—and we were getting ready to take the guys down when it all went to shit.

"I had a bead on one of the suspects and my partner had another one in his sights; we were just waiting for somebody to get a clean shot at the third guy when somehow they got word that we were up there. One hostage was killed right off the bat, before we even had a chance to take them down; that's when I said 'fuck it' and took my shot.

"I killed my guy and the third suspect that nobody could get a bead on; my partner got his guy the same time I got my first guy," she continued, her face and voice emotionless and her gun never wavering from Kim. "After that the hostages were evacuated without any more casualties, but the damage was done.

"I was on my way back to the truck when it hit me; I didn't care that one of the hostages died," she said, no sign of remorse evident. "I did my job—I did it the best I could—and we still lost a hostage… and I didn't care."

"What do you mean you didn't care?" Kim asked, wary of the answer. "It didn't bother you that an innocent person died?"

"No, it didn't," Peregrine replied harshly. "I really didn't give a fuck that one of the hostages got his head blown off… looking back on it, if it came right down to it and I had to kill one of the hostages in order to take down my target, I would've done it.

"When I realized I didn't care who lived or died, I decided on a career change, even if I was only twenty-two," she continued with a shrug. "I decided the paychecks were higher and the risk was lower if I left the SWAT team and went out on my own and did contract work."

"So your morals are based on the dollar value associated with the sitch," Kim summarized, scowling in disgust. "How do you sleep at night?"

"Naked on my left side," Peregrine retorted, "and with a fat bank account."

"Didn't need to know _that,"_ the redhead muttered. "So how did you join up with the Phoenix Corporation?"

"They came to me," she replied. "I'd been doing hits for about six months and after I whacked a Mob _capo_ that hired me two weeks before to whack a rival Mob _capo,_ I got a request to meet a prospective new client for a business proposition."

"Let me guess; that was from Phoenix," Kim ventured.

"That's how they work," Peregrine confirmed with a nod. "One of their 'recruiters' was the contact I met, he made his pitch and here I am; steady pay, easy hours and all kinds of toys at my disposal.

"Now, I think we've had enough of the chit-chat," she continued, waggling her pistol slightly, "so if you'll just hand me your gun, we'll be on our way back to Hawk's office; your benefactors are waiting."

"You're the boss," Kim said with a shrug as the mercenary approached her with her hand outstretched. When she was just about within arms' reach, the teen made her move, swinging her left hand abruptly to her left and spoiling Peregrine's aim. At the same time, she took a step backwards and spun the pistol around her finger by the trigger guard 180 degrees, ending up with the grip in her hand, finger on the trigger and aiming directly at the surprised criminal before her.

"How the fuck did you do that?" Peregrine demanded.

"What can I say? I'm just full of surprises," Kim said with a smirk, "now drop the gun and put your hands on your head."

Peregrine complied, letting the P220 clatter to the floor and placing her hands on top of her head, lacing her fingers together. "I can't believe this," she growled under her breath. Aloud, she continued, "You do realize you've got no hope of getting out of here in once piece, right? You're outnumbered and outgunned at least three hundred to one."

"Then what say we even the odds a bit?"

Both Kim and Peregrine's heads snapped around to the source of the new voice; the former's face lighting up in a relieved smile. _"Kate!"_ she cried out joyfully, recognizing the form of the green-skinned woman immediately.

Peregrine, however, used the momentary distraction to her advantage. Grabbing Kim's left wrist in her right hand, she twisted it painfully away, using a perfectly-aimed chop to the redhead's hand to dislodge her grip on the Glock, sending it clattering to the floor. Before she could pick either it or her own P220 up, though, Kim managed to lash out with her foot and kick the weapons out of arm's reach, breaking the slightly older woman's grasp at the same time and dropping into a defensive stance. "I don't need a gun to snap you like a twig, you little bitch," the mercenary snarled.

"Bring it," Kim replied, comfortable in her element as Peregrine charged.

Kate moved to jump into the fight, but a pair of hands—one on each of her biceps—held her back. "No, Kate; this is her fight," Ron muttered, making sure his voice was low enough to not carry to his girlfriend's ears, lest he distract her more.

"Ron-kun is right, Kate-san," Yori replied from the other side. "It is Kim-chan's honor to defeat her adversary without interference."

Growling in irritation under her breath, Kate nevertheless relented and stopped straining against her companions' hands. "If I see her try and pull a fast one on Kim, I'm going in," she warned, casting a hard glare at both teens that flanked her. "There is no way in hell I'm gonna let that bitch get one over on her."

"We wouldn't have it any other way," Ron said reassuringly, placing a hand on the mint-skinned woman's shoulder in gratitude.

During the exchange between Kate, Yori and Ron, Kim and Peregrine had launched their attacks; both women going all-out in an effort to take the other down. After about thirty seconds, the redhead started to feel a sense of familiarity in the fighting style of her adversary. "Taking hand-to-hand lessons from Shego?" she asked as she blocked a kick.

"Not directly, but I took it upon myself to learn everything I could about her; including every discipline of martial arts she knows," Peregrine replied, jumping over the leg sweep Kim directed at her. "She was my inspiration for a career change; especially after that SWAT fuck-up."

"What do you mean she was your inspiration?" Kim asked incredulously, still managing to concentrate on the fight.

"She showed me that somebody that used to be on the side of the law can easily switch to the more profitable team and be better than ever," the mercenary replied, ducking under a high kick and throwing a palm strike, which the redhead easily deflected. "When I was in high school, I used to follow her in the news… I wanted to be just like her."

"So you decided to follow her into a life of crime, huh?" the teen heroine guessed, managing to land a forceful kick into the older woman's thigh, but missing the follow-up palm strike aimed for her solar plexus.

"Not at first," Peregrine admitted, delivering a crescent kick aimed for Kim's head, which the younger woman ducked. "I was actually a little disappointed at first, but after that hostage case, I decided it sounded like a good idea."

"What if I told you that Shego decided to go back to the good guys?" Kim asked, this time successfully landing a strike to Peregrine's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her as she collapsed onto her back.

"I would say you're dumber than you look," she wheezed, staring up at her adversary, her breathing labored.

"What if _I_ told you?" Kate interjected, stepping forward again, this time unhindered.

Kim never took her eyes off Peregrine this time as the mercenary turned to look at the tall, athletic woman that had just spoken. "Who the hell are you?" she asked, her voice still strained.

"Does this answer your question?" the former villainess replied, holding up her right hand and flaring her plasma.

"No way," Peregrine muttered under her breath as she realized who had spoken. "Shego…?"

"Shego is who I used to be," Kate replied, never slowing her advance, "but not anymore."

"You chickened out, didn't you?" Peregrine sneered as a squad of Global Justice agents entered in full riot gear, securing the area. "You couldn't hack the life anymore, so you pussied out and got out of it!"

"Wrong, Peregrine," the raven-haired vixen said, shaking her head slowly, "I left because I realized how big a mistake I'd made over the years.

"I was like you once; full of piss and vinegar, knew everything there was to know about everything and felt like I could take on the world all by myself. After the fights with my brothers and the allure of the glam life that crime promised me, there was no way I could say no.

"I have to admit I did have fun at first," she continued as Peregrine was hauled to her feet by a pair of Global Justice agents and handcuffed, "but as time went by, I realized there was still something missing in my life."

"You don't need a man, Shego; that's what God gave women fingers for," Peregrine quipped, "so don't tell me you gave up on it for that."

"Not even close," Kate replied with another shake of her head. "Tell me something, Peregrine; who do you consider a friend these days? When's the last time you saw any of your family for a Sunday dinner?"

"Phoenix is my family," she spat, "the cunt that gave birth to me and her sperm donor never gave a fuck about me."

"Okay, so maybe your family was a bit messed up," the former villainess acquiesced, "but what about friends? Somebody you can talk to about anything and everything; somebody you can lean on when things aren't going your way… do you have one of those?"

Peregrine glared at her one-time role model with contempt. "You've gone soft," she muttered.

"Maybe I have, but my life's that much happier because of it," Kate replied, nodding at the GJ agents to take the mercenary away. Turning to Kim, her expression softened into a relieved grin. "How're you doing, Kim?" she asked, genuine concern in her eyes and voice.

"Let's just say I've never been happier to hear your voice than I was a few minutes ago," the redhead replied, throwing an arm around Kate's shoulders.

"I'm just glad we got here in time," the raven-haired vixen said, reciprocating Kim's gesture.

"That makes two of us," Kim agreed, withdrawing from the half-hug. "Who's with you, by the way? I could've sworn I saw Ron standing there, but it must've been wishful thinking."

"Wrong, KP."

Kim spun around, her eyes almost protruding from her head. _"Ron?"_ she exclaimed, the shock prevalent on her face when she laid eyes on her boyfriend. Running over to him, she jumped into his open arms and engulfed him in a hug. "What the hell are you doing here; why aren't you still in the hospital?" she asked, her voice somewhere between happy and miffed.

"Why does everybody keep asking me why I'm not still in the hospital when they should know the reason?" Ron griped in his usual, Ron-like way.

"Oh, I get it, now," Kim said as she pulled back and gazed into her boyfriend's eyes, "but why didn't you do it before?"

"Sensei told me it's like anything else; abuse it and it'll backfire on you," he replied, his own chocolate eyes locked on her emerald ones. "I was gonna let nature run its course, but I had a vision of you in trouble, so he helped me concentrate my mojo on fixing myself."

"Well, I'm glad he did," the teen heroine murmured tenderly, leaning in to claim his lips in a warm kiss, which he reciprocated; holding her body tightly against his.

"As much as I hate to break up this tender reunion," Kate interrupted loudly, bringing Kim and Ron back to the here-and-now, "we still have a job to do."

"She's right," Kim said with a hint of disappointment as she withdrew from Ron's comforting grasp, "we've got to go find the mastermind of this outfit and shut it down once and for all."

_

* * *

A/N: For those that might be wondering, Yori's phrase at the beginning of the chapter—_"baka gaijin"—_loosely translates to "idiot white boy;" obviously mildly cursing Ron out for bolting from the hospital before he's healed… at the time, of course, she doesn't realize he's using his Monkey Mojo to patch himself up._

_It's getting close to the end now; Ron's healed up, Kim's out of her prison and Peregrine's on her way _to_ prison, all that's left now is to find out who hired Phoenix to capture Kim in the first place… and shut Phoenix and its mastermind down once and for all. _

_Next chapter should tie up all of those loose ends—that's right, folks; we're just about at the tail end of the story. For the three people that might be upset by this, rest assured; just because the story's ending doesn't mean the arc's ending. I plan on doing more with this arc; some one-shots, a couple of short stories and, hopefully, another multi-chapter work like this one. I'm looking forward to starting these new stories and I hope you'll stick with me through them, as you have with this one._

_As always, leave a review and get a response!_

_Cheers,  
Deuce_


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_

* * *

_

A/N: Well… this is it, everybody; Chapter Fourteen and the final installment of TAY._ As noted at the end of the last chapter, this isn't the end of the arc; it's merely the end of this story that started it all. It's been a long ride that made me wonder sometimes if the end would ever see the light of day. I just want to say a huge, heartfelt "thank you" to everybody that's read this tale of mine and hope you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_As always, a shout out to those that reviewed the last chapter: CajunBear73, shana elmsford, KP's Man, jkrust78, Katsumara, spectre666, screaming phoenix and black-bloodend. Your continued support has been the fuel that saw this thing to completion: I couldn't have done it without you._

_Anyway, enough with the sentimental garbage; on with the story!_

_**

* * *

**_

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"What the hell is taking Peregrine so long?" Hawk muttered with a scowl, picking up his telephone and dialing her sat-phone number. When he received no answer, his scowl deepened. Rising from his seat, he went to the window behind his desk to look outside. "Fuck."

"Is there a problem, Mr. Hawk?" the Phoenix client asked in his silky-smooth voice, his Walther PPK still trained on the enigmatic man across the desk.

Hawk wheeled around to glare at the smug individual sitting in front of his desk. "Well, considering Global Justice has just decided to raid us, I would have to say _yes,_ there's a _fucking problem!"_ he bellowed, dashing back to his desk and picking up the telephone. "I don't care what you clowns do, but I'm getting my ass the hell out of here," he said as he dialed another number. "Man the escape tunnel," he said into the receiver abruptly, hanging up without waiting for a response. When he looked up, however, he realized he was staring directly down the business end of his client's PPK.

"I believe you're mistaken, Mr. Hawk; you won't be going anywhere," the gunman said, "although I may change my mind if you tell me where this escape tunnel is."

"What're you babbling about?" Hawk asked, perplexed.

"Am I correct in assuming that I will not be taking delivery of Miss Possible today?" he countered, the Walther rock-steady in his hand.

"Of course not, you idiot!" the Phoenix mastermind retorted angrily. "By now she's probably halfway home, or at the very least waiting for GJ to finish up here!"

"Exactly my point," the client replied coolly, "since I will not be taking delivery of Miss Possible— which constitutes a breach of contract on your part—I expect a full refund of all monies paid to your organization and the opportunity to vacate these premises before Global Justice apprehends us."

"You've got to be shitting me," Hawk muttered incredulously. "Global Justice is about to storm the joint, and you want a _refund?_ Can't this wait until after we get out of here?"

"Unfortunately, no," was the calm response.

"Fine," the shadow-shrouded man growled through clenched teeth. Sitting down at his desk again, he rapidly manipulated the mouse and typed for a moment before speaking again. "There; I've transferred the million bucks back to your account. Now can we quit wasting time and get out of here?"

"Where exactly are we going?"

Hawk took a moment to press a button on his desk—which resulted in the Degaussing ring that surrounded his PC to activate, effectively destroying all information on the hard drive—before answering. "There's a tunnel concealed in the basement of this building that leads to an underground garage about two miles from here; it was set up for a situation like this," he replied, pulling a hardcover copy of _War and Peace_ from the bookcase behind his desk. Reaching into the gap the missing book had made, he pressed a camouflaged panel and replaced the book.

"And what did you just do?" the client asked, his voice still conversational.

"I just disengaged the locks on the tunnel door; it can only be opened from here and it only stays open for five minutes before locking back up," Hawk replied. "Now, I've had enough of your inane questions and Johnny Cool attitude to do me a lifetime, so can we _please_ get the fuck out of here?"

"We most certainly may," the client replied, "however you will not."

Hawk opened his mouth to protest, but it was quickly cut short by a .380 ACP round striking him square in the forehead. His body stood rigid for a moment as if suspended in time before toppling backwards to the floor, dead before he hit the ground.

Replacing the Walther in his pocket, the man turned to his companion. "Come, Peter, let us take our leave of this place," he said, walking nonchalantly to the door. Peter followed behind, taking one last look at Hawk's body before leaving the office, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Why did you kill him, sir?" Peter asked as they descended the stairs towards the basement.

"He outlived his usefulness," the other man replied matter-of-factly, "and eliminating him leaves the door open for me to claim my consolation prize."

"What would that be, sir?"

"I intend to take over the Phoenix Corporation myself and finish what Mr. Hawk—rest his soul—was incapable of accomplishing… defeating Kim Possible once and for all."

Peter remained silent as the two men hit the basement of the building, almost instantly finding the entrance to the tunnel on the southern wall. Beside the door-sized entrance, a small panel with a keypad and an LED display showed a countdown that read **2:49,** the time decreasing in one-second increments.

Also standing beside the door was a member of the Phoenix security team, who was currently occupied with wiring a small bomb to the tunnel's entrance, ostensibly to collapse the mouth of the tunnel long enough to allow his employer a chance to escape. As such, he didn't notice the two business-suited men descend the stairs, nor did he see the first one withdraw his pistol; all he noticed was the cold steel of the Walther as it pressed against the base of his skull, making him freeze in his tracks.

"What triggers this explosive?" the man asked simply.

"It's on a timer," the guard replied, "you've got two minutes from the time it's activated to get into the tunnel before it blows."

"How far in does one have to be to clear the blast area?"

"About a hundred yards."

"Is the device ready to trigger?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do it," the man commanded, pressing the muzzle of the pistol a bit harder into the guard's neck for emphasis.

Nodding, the guard complied as he pressed a button on top of the small device, triggering the timer. Beside the button, a small red LED display lit up, counting down from two minutes to the hundredth of a second. "There you go," he said.

"Thank you," the man replied before squeezing the trigger, no sign of emotion on his face as the guard pitched forward, landing face-down in an ever-growing pool of his own blood. Calmly replacing the pistol in his jacket pocket, the man motioned for his companion to follow him down the tunnel.

* * *

"So how did you guys find me?" Kim asked as the foursome made their way out of the hangar building and towards the mobile GJ command center.

"Thank Wade for that one," Kate replied with a grin. "He managed to track you down based on Yori's description of the van that snagged you and where they ditched your Kimmunicator along the side of the road—you can also give props to the Colorado DOT for putting up those highway webcams; that's how he tracked them."

"Why does that not surprise me?" the redhead chuckled as they entered the command center—a converted city transit bus—in single file, Kate leading the way.

Agent Rhonda Bartlett looked up from her workstation as soon as she heard Kim's voice, her face lighting up when she laid eyes on the teen heroine. Turning to an agent with a headset on, she tapped him on the shoulder as she spoke. "Rick, advise Dr. Director that Phase One of the operation is complete," she said, "Kim Possible has been recovered safely."

"Yes, ma'am," the young man said with a curt nod as he turned back to his station and relayed the message.

Bartlett, meanwhile, approached Kim with her hand outstretched. "Miss Possible, my name's Rhonda Bartlett; I'm the team lead for this operation and I just want to say we're glad to see you safe and it's an honor to meet you," she said, her broad smile never leaving her face.

"The pleasure's all mine," Kim replied, returning the smile and handshake, "I've never been in a worse sitch than that in my life and, quite frankly, I hope I never am again."

"I can only imagine," Bartlett acknowledged with a scowl.

"So what's the scoop right now?" Kate asked, leaning against a support pole near the door. "We've managed to get Kim out in one piece; how are we doing on the roundup front?"

"We've been taking hired muscle and—for lack of a better term, lieutenants—in left and right, but so far there's no sign of whoever's at the top of this whole pile," the GJ agent said, sitting down at a small table on the right-hand side of the bus. Kate and the three teens followed the other woman's lead and sat down around the same table as she continued to speak. "Of course, we've still got half of the compound to search, so it's not like we're licked yet."

"I think I can help," Kim said, adjusting herself in her seat so she could lean into her boyfriend's chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Peregrine told me the reason they grabbed me was because a client had 'bought' me and just before Kate, Ron and Yori came in she told me they were here to pick me up, so whoever put them up to kidnapping me is here, too."

"Do you have any indication or suspicion who the client—or clients—could be?"

Kim shook her head gently. "Not a clue," she said with a frown, "but I wish I did."

"We'll find them," Bartlett said in a comforting tone with an encouraging smile. "Contrary to popular belief, Global Justice doesn't _always_ need a cheerleader and a running back to clean up their SNAFU's… only certain agents with their noses stuck in the air."

"Good to know," Kim said with a smirk, "but this cheerleader wants in on the action."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" the agent said dubiously. "I mean, you were just freed from being held prisoner by a kidnapper."

"Yeah, this is how KP deals with this sort of thing," Ron interjected, squeezing the redhead's shoulders affectionately. "She picks herself up and beats the tar out of whoever got one over on her."

"Exactly," Kim agreed, glancing quickly at the towheaded young man with a smile before turning back to Bartlett. "I want to be there when whoever did this goes down; I know Dr. Director's gonna want to debrief me on the kidnapping, but she can wait until this is over with."

"Doctor Director warned me you might be like this and told me there's no sense in trying to stop you," Bartlett chuckled, reaching behind her seat and coming up with a medium-sized duffel bag, "all she said was to make sure you got this before you ran in headfirst; apparently your webmaster had it sent to us when we were getting ready to move out."

"Thank you, Wade!" Kim exulted as she zipped the bag open and peered inside, her smile growing even wider when she saw its contents. "And thank you, Monique!"

"What's Monique got to do with anything?" Ron asked, puzzled.

Rather than answer right away, Kim instead started emptying the contents of the duffel bag onto the table. At first the other occupants saw what they expected; a purple T-shirt, a pair of black slacks with purple piping along the outer seam, a pair of brown size seven hiking boots, a pair of brown leather driving gloves and a brown leather utility belt and pouch. What they didn't expect, however, was when she pulled a second utility belt from the bag, followed by a pair of size nine hiking boots, a pair of black slacks with green piping on the outer seams and a green T-shirt; all of which she handed to Kate.

"What the hell is this?" the mint-skinned woman asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I asked Monique to put together some mission gear for you," Kim replied proudly, her tone quickly morphing to tentative when she saw Kate's expression. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," she murmured with a shrug.

For a long moment, Kate said nothing, merely staring at the teen heroine in front of her. Finally, with a bemused smirk, she got up from her seat and put her free hand on Kim's shoulder. "Thanks, Kim," she said softly, prompting the smile to return to the younger woman's face, "it means a lot."

"Well, if you're gonna work with Team Possible, you should at least look the part," Kim reasoned, still smiling. "Think of it as another step in your 'moving on' process."

"Beats the hell out of ruining all of my new outfits, that's for sure," the former villainess quipped, returning Kim's smile as she entered the phone-booth-sized changing room incorporated into the back corner of the bus. A few moments later she emerged again, wearing the new togs Kim and Monique had supplied her with, the former waiting by the door when she came out, her own mission gear in her arms.

"So… what do you think?" the redhead asked with a hopeful expression on her face.

"I stand by what I said at Club Banana," Kate replied as she surveyed the results of Monique's design, "she knows what she's doing when it comes to clothes; everything fits like a glove."

"So you like it, then?"

"It'll do," the mint-skinned woman said pseudo-passively, shrugging indifferently but with a pleased twinkle in her eye as the teen stepped past her into the changing room with a giggle.

Less than two minutes later, Kim re-emerged from the changing room with a satisfied expression on her face. "Now this is more like it," she said as she sat down beside Ron and started tightening the laces on her boots.

"So what's the plan now?" Ron asked as he watched his girlfriend finish getting ready.

"If nobody's done it yet, I want to find out where this so-called 'corporation's' head honcho hides out," Kim replied as she peered into the knapsack again, "we need to nail him in order to shut this thing down once and for all."

"We're working on that," Bartlett said, "but so far we haven't found any sign of him yet."

"What about their clients?"

"Haven't found them yet, either, but we did secure a late-model Chevy Tahoe that's registered to a… Peter Howard," the Global Justice mission commander replied with a quick glance at her notepad.

"Are you looking for anything in particular, KP?" Ron asked, watching as she continued to root through the knapsack.

"Yeah… my gun," she replied with a huff, sitting back in her chair. "I was hoping Wade would have it sent with the rest of my gear, but I guess he's still not used to the idea of me carrying."

"Wade might not be, but it appears Dr. Director is," Bartlett said as she opened a locker just behind the driver's seat of the bus. "She told me to bring these on the off-chance you might need them… she must be part psychic, 'cause she gave me two of 'em." Closing the locker, the agent returned to the group with two holstered—one in brown leather, the other in black—pistols in her hands and passed one to each Kim and Ron.

"Spankin'!" Kim exclaimed with a grin as she withdrew the H&K MK23 from its holster and gave it a quick once-over before replacing it. "Hopefully I won't need it, but I'd rather have it in case… already had to shoot one guy," she added as she removed the pouch from her right thigh, replaced it with the holster—which had been custom-made to fit her belt—and put the pouch on her left thigh.

"Better to be over-prepared than not prepared enough," Kate observed sagely. She was about to continue when a muffled explosion could be heard from one of the buildings, causing everybody to turn and look. "What the hell was that?"

"Rick; anybody got anything on what just exploded?" Bartlett asked, turning to her communications officer.

"Not yet, but I'm working on it," the man replied, one hand pressed to his headset. "Apparently it came from a building that we haven't had a chance to search yet; Team Foxtrot's on their way to investigate now."

"Keep us informed if they find anything," Bartlett replied, turning back to the newly-expanded Team Possible. "If you guys have any ideas right now, I'd be glad to hear 'em."

"We know that whoever hired Phoenix to capture me hasn't left in any type of vehicle, so they've gotta be on foot," Kim mused, "and I would almost be willing to bet that if we find Phoenix's client, we'll find the head honcho of the entire corporation."

"Finding two or three guys on foot—in the middle of the night, I might add—in a thousand acres of sand dunes and shrubs is gonna be damn near impossible," Kate cut in. "We're gonna need something to throw the advantage our way."

"Way ahead of you," Kim replied with a wink as she turned the Kimmunicator on her wrist towards her face and pressed the call button.

"Kim!" Wade cried in relief. "You're okay!"

"Of course I am," the redhead replied nonchalantly, "and I'm back in the saddle and need your help."

"Gladly; what do you need?"

"I need you to do a thermal imaging scan on this place and see if you can find anybody running _away_ from the action… looks like whoever is behind this mess managed to sneak out under GJ's radar."

"On it," the teen tech guru replied with a grin as he started typing on his keyboards. After about a minute, however, his face fell. "This is weird… other than GJ agents, I don't see anybody running away from the compound."

"Any theories?"

"Well, they could be underground," Wade said, "thermal imaging can only detect surface temperatures; if they're in a basement or something then there's no way I'll find them with this. Sorry," he added dejectedly.

Kim sighed, but smiled at her tech guru nonetheless. "Thanks Wade, you rock anyway," she said before signing off.

"Okay, so that didn't work; now what?" Ron asked, looking up at Kim.

Before she could answer, Rick—the GJ communications officer—broke the silence. "Rhonda! We just got word what that explosion was!"

Bartlett spun around to look at the man the second he spoke. "What was it?" she asked.

"Looks like somebody set up a charge at the mouth of a tunnel in a basement and blew it so nobody could follow them," he replied. "They also found one man dead down there."

"Dead from what?" the mission commander asked incredulously.

"Single gunshot wound to the head; apparently whoever blew that tunnel mouth shut didn't want him to follow," Rick replied, then put his hand to his earphones, apparently listening to another update. "Make that two dead; Team Delta just found Harland Bachman in what appears to be his office… also dead of a single gunshot wound to the head."

"Dammit!" Bartlett spat, slamming her fist on the table. "How can we prosecute a dead man?"

"I dunno, but whoever decided to kill Bachman is probably the same one that hired him to capture me so they could buy me," Kim said, rising from her seat and looking at her team. "I think it's time we talk to Miss Peregrine again."

* * *

Peregrine was not a happy camper. Sitting in the back of a converted and fortified cube van on a wooden bench fastened to the side wall with her hands cuffed tightly behind her back and her left ankle shackled to the floor was not her idea of a good time by any stretch of the imagination. As bad as her day was going, however; it got exponentially worse when Kim Possible opened the back door of the van and climbed in with a look of vengeance in her eyes. "Great; come to rub it in my face that you beat me?" she muttered with a scowl.

"Hardly," Kim replied flatly, sitting down on the bench across from the mercenary. "I need information and you're the one that's going to give it to me."

"And what, exactly, makes you think I'm going to give you anything?"

"What benefit is it to you to _not_ give me anything?" Kim countered.

"The satisfaction of seeing your case fall down around your ears when you're so close to the finish line," Peregrine sneered maliciously. "Just because Shego went soft doesn't mean I'm gonna; Hawk'll get me out of jail and we'll be back… and you'll be dead."

"You do realize that Harland Bachman—AKA 'Hawk'—is dead, right?"

"You're lying," the sniper growled through clenched teeth, her voice rising to a crescendo as she continued. "Hawk was perfectly fine when I left his office twenty minutes ago; how could he be _dead?"_

"He was found in his office with a gunshot wound to the head," Kim replied with a modicum of pity. "Whoever hired Phoenix to nab me probably decided he'd outlived his usefulness and eliminated him before the tables could be turned. Peregrine, I need to know how he—or they—got away without Global Justice noticing them."

"They—there were two of them—probably used Hawk's escape tunnel, assuming he said anything to them about it before they killed him."

"That adds up to what we've found," Bartlett interjected from the van's back door, "that explosion appeared to cave in the mouth of a tunnel."

Kim nodded before turning her attention back to the prisoner in front of her. "I need to know where that tunnel leads," she said with a bare hint of desperation, "if you want Hawk's murderers to face justice… I need to know how they're getting away."

Peregrine sat silent for a long moment, staring at her boots as she waged an internal battle with herself. Sure, it would be easy to just tell the redheaded heroine in front of her where the emergency garage was, but to do that would help her and go against everything the mercenary stood for. On the other hand, to not tell her would mean the ones responsible for Hawk's death would get away.

In the end, the young woman decided that helping Kim would be the lesser of two evils; she was already going to prison, the least she could do was bring Hawk's killers down with her. "The tunnel goes for about two and a half miles due south, across the New Mexico border," Peregrine muttered softly. "The other end comes out inside an old dairy barn that we've got converted into a garage; we keep two Chevy Tahoes and a Lincoln Town Car over there at all times, fueled up and ready to go at a moment's notice."

With a triumphant smirk, Kim looked down at the Kimmunicator on her wrist. "Did you get that, Wade?"

"Roger that," the young tech phenom replied with a broad grin. "I've already got the farm on live satellite surveillance and I'm watching for activity."

"How long will it take for us to get there on the open road?"

Wade typed away again for a moment before replying. "Assuming you're taking Kate's GJ-issue car, roughly fifteen minutes."

"We're on our way," Kim said as she rose from the bench, "keep us posted if they're on the move again."

"You got it," Wade said before the screen winked out, returning to its default time/date setting.

Kim turned to look at Peregrine for a brief moment, an almost pitying expression on her face. "Thank you, Peregrine; you did the right thing," she said softly.

"Eat shit," the mercenary spat with a scowl, still staring at her feet.

Shaking her head with a soft sigh, Kim exited the truck and looked at the rest of Team Possible, standing in wait just outside. "Okay, we have a clue where my so-called buyers have gone; Wade's already got the place under surveillance and he's gonna let us know if they bolt before we get there."

"Perfect; where is it?" Kate asked, following the redhead towards her car.

"Just across the New Mexico border; a dairy farm about two and a half miles due south of here," Kim replied. "Wade says we should be able to make it in fifteen minutes."

"Too long," the former villainess objected, turning to look at Agent Bartlett behind her. "Have you got anything that'll get us there quicker?"

Bartlett shook her head in the negative. "We only brought Humvees and a couple of buses; if we had a chopper I'd say you could fly in, but as it stands we've got nothing that'll get you there any faster."

"We could off-road with one of the Hummers," Ron suggested.

"Terrain's too rough; it'd be a straighter line, but we'd have to go slower," Kate said with a deepening frown. "Looks like we're gonna have to head out and hope for the best."

Kim was about to reply when her Kimmunicator chirped again. "Go, Wade."

"Looks like our guys are on the move and they're coming back north," the rotund teen said, his eyes directed at a different screen than the one connected to the Kimmunicator. "I don't think they realize we're on to them," he added with a smirk.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to change that, won't we?" the redhead replied, looking at Kate. "Feel up to a high-speed chase?"

"I wish I knew what made me think being a good guy was no fun," the raven-haired vixen mused before looking at her friend. "Let's move."

All four Team Possible members turned to head for Kate's car when Kim stopped and turned to Agent Bartlett. "Miss Bartlett?"

"For the love of God, Kim, call me Rhonda," the young mission commander sighed, but with a grin.

"Sorry, Rhonda," Kim smirked before continuing. "Could you contact the local Highway Patrol branch? I have a feeling it's gonna take more than just us to get these guys off the road."

"You got it," Bartlett replied with a grin. "Good luck."

"Thanks; I have a feeling we're gonna need it," the teen said with a final wave as she ran to catch up with her teammates.

* * *

"So what's the plan now, sir?" Peter asked as he drove the speed limit on the highway, headed back towards Middleton and, by extension, Denver.

"We get back to our office and regroup before going back on the offensive," the man in the seat next to him replied as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. Reaching just below the inside edge of his collar, he began scraping his fingernails under the edge of a rubber mask and started to peel it off, tossing the pieces on the floor at his feet as they came off, thankful for the Lincoln's deeply-tinted windows.

"Do you have another plan in mind?"

"Of course I do, Peter; this is why I'm the brains and you're the driver," he replied once he'd managed to clear the rubber from around his lips, continuing as he removed the rest of the mask from the upper part of his face, more and more of his natural blue hue being revealed. "Since the Phoenix Corporation has been all but obliterated, we will get the affairs we need in order to take over the business niche that they've recently vacated, effectively eliminating any cash flow issues that we may currently be encountering."

"What about your business partner?"

"I plan on severing our business relationship in the very near future; with this new arrangement I will have no further need of his financial backing and his abrasive mannerisms are, quite frankly, starting to annoy me."

Peter nodded as he continued to drive along the highway, his eyes never leaving the road. "Yeah, the professor can be rather loud at times; really, considering your history, I'm surprised you ever teamed up in the first place."

"It was an alliance of necessity at the time," Drakken muttered with a sigh, "but if I can get along without him, then so much the better."

"Here's hoping," Peter muttered, also rather tired of Dementor's over-the-top personality. He was about to continue his thought when he looked in his rear-view mirror and saw a pair of headlights approaching rapidly. "What the hell is this clown thinking?" he exclaimed instead as the gray Crown Vic blew by at about a hundred and forty.

"Who cares? It just means the highway patrol will be more interested in him than us," Drakken replied casually. "Just keep the speed limit and don't give them any excuses to notice us."

"Yes, sir, Dr. Drakken," Peter replied with a nod.

* * *

About ten miles up the road, the speeding Crown Vic slowed down and pulled over just ahead of a marked Colorado State Patrol cruiser. Almost before the car came to a complete stop, Kim, Ron and Yori were already piling out; Kate right behind them once she'd thrown the sedan into park and shut the engine off.

As soon as they'd pulled over, the trooper in charge approached them at a jog. "Miss Possible, I'm Sergeant Major Miles Davis," he said, shaking hands with the foursome as Kim introduced them. "We've got the highway closed for four miles; did you pass anybody else besides the suspect car?"

"Nope; that Lincoln's the only one we saw," Kate replied, standing just behind the three teenagers.

"Perfect," Davis said before turning to the other six troopers present. "Okay, boys; we're on!" he called out. Almost as one, the four cruisers' engines started up and were repositioned; two perpendicular to the road and two behind them, parallel to the road, prepared to give chase should the suspect vehicle continue past the roadblock. For added measure, spike belts were rolled out just before the cruisers to flatten the car's tires as it drove past, hopefully stopping it without having to resort to a high-speed chase. In the distance, the rotors of a helicopter could be heard beating through the air, waiting to put a spotlight on the scene if needed.

"Not taking any chances, I see," Kim mused as she watched the troopers set up their road block.

"Well, we just figure that this way, even if they do blow through, they won't get far on four flat tires," the sergeant major explained with a smirk, "and something tells me that, between ten of us, they won't get far on foot, either."

"You can bet on that," Kim said darkly. "I'm gonna make sure this son-of-a-bitch gets put away before he can try to pull a stunt like this again."

"Believe me, Miss Possible, we would like nothing more than to help you ensure that's exactly what happens," Davis replied just as gravely.

At that point a car could be heard approaching; at the same time, Davis's two-way radio squawked to life. "Suspect vehicle is approaching at the speed limit; all units stand by."

"That's our cue," he said, turning to return to his team as the four cruisers' emergency lights all lit up, bathing the scene in a psychedelic blend of red and blue. "You guys can hole up behind your car and wait; hopefully this'll all be over quick."

"Why does that make me think it'll be anything _but_ quick?" Ron mused in an undertone as they took up a position on the far side of the car.

"I've got a bad feeling too, Ron," Kim replied, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "We'll just have to make sure we're ready."

No sooner had she finished speaking when the Lincoln's headlights came around the turn that led up to the roadblock. One state trooper stood at the front fender of one of the cruisers with his hand held up in a "halt" gesture, hoping the driver would stop and surrender quietly; four others were stationed on the far side of the cruisers and the other two were sitting in the chase vehicles, ready to pursue if needed.

* * *

"Shit!" Peter exclaimed as he made the turn and saw the mass of red and blue flashing lights. "Roadblock!"

"Go through the spike belts," Drakken ordered, "the area is wooded; we'll go in the woods and hopefully evade capture long enough to hijack another vehicle and continue on our way."

"Yes, sir," Peter replied dubiously as he pressed the accelerator to the floor.

* * *

"He's speeding up!" the trooper standing in front of the roadblock cried out. "Get ready to pursue!"

Kim cursed under her breath when she heard the trooper's update, coupled with the roar of the Lincoln's big V8 engine as the driver floored it. "Why can they never make this any easier?" she muttered as she drew her MK23 and held it at the ready, knowing at least one of the car's occupants was armed.

Nobody got a chance to answer or move before the big car hit the spike belts, a distinctive popping coming from the tires as they were punctured. Rather than slow down, however, the Lincoln's driver kept his foot on the accelerator, fighting to keep control of the car as the tires went flat, riding the rims as the tires disintegrated. Before the troopers could give chase, however, the Lincoln lost control and crashed through the guard rail barely ten feet ahead of Kate's car; both front doors flying open and the occupants bailing out as the car came to a complete stop.

"Get that spotlight on the car!" Davis barked into his radio. Barely a second later, the entire area around the now-wrecked Lincoln was bathed in white light as the helicopter hovered overhead. Two figures could be seen running in opposite directions from the car, headed for the stand of evergreens barely fifty feet away.

"Occupants of the Lincoln, halt where you are or we will open fire!" the pilot of the helicopter called over the PA system. For added light, the two cruisers on that side of the highway turned their spotlights on the fleeing figures.

Kim turned to Ron and put her hand on his shoulder. "You and Kate go after the passenger; Yori and I'll take the driver," she said decisively.

"You got it, Kim," Ron replied with a nod as he turned to follow the former villainess into the gully. He stopped, however, when his girlfriend didn't let go right away and turned to look at her again. "What's up?"

Rather than respond verbally, Kim leaned in and kissed the young man briefly, yet passionately, on the lips. "Just remember that no matter what happens, I love you," she said as she pulled away.

"Ditto, KP," he replied, this time slipping away unhindered.

* * *

Peter could hear somebody chasing after him almost as soon as the police spotlights were on him. Panicking, he drew a Browning Hi-Power from his jacket and turned, firing blindly over his shoulder, hoping to at least drive whoever was chasing him to cover.

On the shoulder of the highway, Corporal Sam Wilkins couldn't hide the smirk as he brought his M14 to his shoulder and peered through the scope. "You just gave me an excuse, you naughty boy," he murmured as he released the safety on the weapon. Double-checking the friendlies were still far enough away, he drew a bead on the fleeing man and squeezed the trigger, a satisfied grunt sounding from his throat as the figure dropped. Pulling the rifle away from his face and re-engaging the safety, he keyed his radio. "This is Wilkins; shots fired, one suspect is down; repeat, one suspect is down from police fire."

"Affirmative, Wilkins," the dispatcher replied, "paramedics and coroner are standing by until the scene is secured."

Kim and Yori, meanwhile, had arrived at the suspect's motionless form lying in the grass. Kneeling beside him with her pistol still in hand, the redhead rolled the man over, gasping at what she saw; Yori, for her part, merely uttered an oath in Japanese under her breath.

Peter lay on his back with unseeing eyes wide open, a 7.62mm entry wound in his left temple, about an inch back from the corner of his eye. On the other side of his head, just above his ear, was the exit wound, pieces of pulpy brain matter and bits of skull stuck in his hair. Fighting the urge to retch, Kim merely stood back up and walked away, Yori following behind.

"And I believed only ninja could be so ruthless," the young Japanese woman said with a hint of awe in her voice.

"You'd be surprised what can happen in America when one of their heroes is threatened," the redhead replied dryly, "and from what most people tend to tell me, I qualify."

"I would not argue that," Yori stated matter-of-factly as they climbed the embankment back to the shoulder of the highway.

Master Sergeant Davis approached them as they crested the hill. "What's the word on the suspect that shot at you?"

"Whoever shot him has better aim than he did," Kim replied. "He's dead."

Davis nodded wordlessly. _Dammit, Wilkins; you just tripled our paperwork._ He heaved a heavy sigh before he finally spoke. "Alright, Miss Possible; I'll contact the coroner to get out here and pick up the body… hopefully we'll bring the other guy in alive."

"I'll second that," the redhead said, "the one we were chasing was just a driver; the other guy's the brains of the operation."

"You think they'll be able to catch him alive? He got into the woods before anybody could catch up to him."

"With Ron and Kate on his tail, I wouldn't worry too much."

* * *

"Dammit, Stoppable; why didn't you just shoot him in the kneecap or something?" Kate barked as they picked their way through the evergreens, following the sounds of their quarry smashing through the undergrowth.

"Hey, I don't shoot at anybody unless they shoot at me first," Ron replied indignantly. "Besides, you've got your plasma that's not lethal; you could've knocked him down with that."

Kate growled in her throat before casting a glance at the towheaded teen nearby. "Okay, I'll give you that one," she conceded grudgingly, stepping around a tree trunk. "Now I can't even see the son-of-a-bitch."

"Who needs to see him when he's making more racket than a bull moose?" Ron retorted as they continued through the forest, their superior athleticism making them gain on their quarry at a steady rate.

"Who are you and what have you done with the buffoon?" the mint-skinned woman quipped with a note of humor in her voice.

"Growing up tends to do that to a guy," Ron shrugged, pointing just ahead. "There he is!"

"Let's see if this'll grab his attention," Kate said, stopping up long enough to power up her right hand and throw a fastball that would make Roy Halladay proud. Rather than striking the fleeing man directly, she'd aimed a bit to one side so the bolt would strike the ground ahead of him, hopefully coaxing him to stop.

When it hit, however, the reaction wasn't one either Kate or Ron expected. Sure, the man stopped dead when he saw Kate's plasma hit the ground less than ten feet in front of him, but he only stayed that way for a moment before spinning around, the Walther PPK in his hand. "You traitorous _bitch!"_ he screamed as he squeezed the trigger.

Ron had ducked behind a tree as soon as he saw the gun in the man's hand, drawing his own from his holster. When he peeked around the tree again, though, his stomach plummeted in horror at the sight that met his eyes.

Kate looked up at her former employer with sheer contempt in her eyes, her hands pressing on the newly-acquired bullet wound in her stomach, just below her left breast, blood seeping between her fingers. "What now, Dr. D? Gonna kill me like you want to kill Kim?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

"All in good time, Shego," Drakken replied smoothly. "Who was with you and where is he? I saw two of you chasing me."

"Nobody," Kate lied, hoping to give Ron a chance to get a shot.

"_Lies!"_ the mad scientist barked, turning his pistol in the general direction of his former sidekick's companion. "Show yourself or the green girl gets a lead propelled lobotomy!" To encourage his demand, Drakken fired a couple of shots into the darkness.

Ron had stayed behind the large spruce tree he'd ducked behind, thankful he did as the two shots whizzed by; one of them actually embedding in the trunk of the tree he stood behind. _Oh, it's on now,_ he thought as he crouched low and peered around the far side of the trunk. He could see Drakken still looking wildly about, trying to find him as the teen noiselessly disengaged the safety on his Smith & Wesson M&P .45.

"Come on; I don't have all day!" Drakken yelled, still looking around but with his weapon now pointed at Kate's forehead again. "You've got five seconds before I kill her!"

_Not on my watch,_ Ron thought as he peeked around the trunk of the tree again, especially thankful for the M&P's matte-black finish as he sighted in on the Walther in Drakken's tiny hand.

"Five…"

_Why couldn't Kim be the one doing this? She's the one that can put six shots in the same hole in three seconds at twenty yards._

"Four…"

_Then again, I got five in the same hole in three seconds at fifteen yards…_

"Three…"

_Here goes nothing…_

"Two…"

Taking a deep breath, Ron held it as he squeezed the trigger.

"One…"

Kate winced, but willed her eyes to stay open as she saw Drakken's face contort, the muscles in his hand twitching to squeeze the trigger of the PPK. Instead of the instant blackness she expected, however, the gunshot she heard caused the mad scientist's hand to jerk away, the Walther spinning out of his grasp to land in the undergrowth a couple of yards away.

"Hands where I can see 'em, Drakken!" Ron yelled as he stepped out from behind the tree, his pistol still trained on the blue man's form.

"The buffoon…?" Drakken whined numbly as he held his hands out to his sides. "But… you're supposed to be in the hospital!"

"Kate's not the only one here that's got the mad healing skills," the towheaded teen said nonchalantly as he stepped closer, the muzzle of his weapon never wavering. Looking down at Kate, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "How you feeling?" he asked.

"I've had better days," she deadpanned, what little color she had leaving her cheeks as she lost blood.

With his left hand, he withdrew his handheld version of the Kimmunicator (which looked uncannily like an iPod) and keyed the call button. "Let's see if we can do something to fix that," he said.

"Ron!" Wade exclaimed the second his face appeared on the screen. "What's going on?"

"Get a GPS lock on me and get the cops and some paramedics in here A-sap; Kate's been shot and we caught the suspect," Ron said, keeping his eyes on Drakken.

"Sending your coordinates to Kim now; where was Kate hit?" Wade said, all business.

"Single wound to the abdomen; she's still conscious but losing blood."

"Okay, they're on their way; in the meantime, do you have an ID on whoever was behind this mess?"

"Drakken," Ron replied flatly, "it was Drakken all along."

"Whaddaya know… I was right," Kate murmured weakly. "I told Dr. Director that was probably what was going on, but I had no proof."

"Now we've got it," Ron said, giving the former villainess—and now-proven ally—a quick grin before returning his gaze to Drakken. All four—Wade included—stayed silent at that point as they waited for the state troopers and paramedics to arrive; judging by the thrashing approaching them through the undergrowth, they knew it wouldn't be long.

Sure enough, less than a minute later the first state trooper caught sight of Ron holding Drakken at gunpoint. "Over here!" he called as he jogged up alongside Ron with his own weapon drawn and trained on the mad scientist. "We've got it from here, Mr. Stoppable; you can stand down," he said, "good work."

Nodding, Ron put his gun back in its holster and turned to another trooper that approached him. "I shot Drakken's gun out of his hand; it's laying over there somewhere," he said, pointing in the general direction of the Walther's location.

"We'll find it," the trooper said, turning his flashlight in the direction Ron had pointed while another trooper joined the first and went about securing Drakken's arms and legs in handcuffs and shackles.

"Ron!"

Ron spun around and immediately locked gazes with his girlfriend, best friend and soul mate. Smiling, he held his arms open as Kim jumped into his embrace, kissing him fiercely. "You okay, KP?" he asked once their lips parted.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, looking down at Kate, who was being tended to by paramedics. "How's Kate?"

"I'm fine, thank you very much," the mint-skinned woman croaked from the backboard she'd just been strapped to. "Just because I've been shot doesn't mean I can't speak for myself, y'know."

"Sorry," Kim said sheepishly, stepping out of her boyfriend's arms and moving to the older woman's side. Taking her hand, she gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Thanks again, Kate… for everything."

"Hey… what're sisters for?" Kate replied with a smirk as the paramedics, as one, lifted her up.

"Exactly," the redhead said with a wink as the paramedics started to take the former villainess away. "We'll stop by the hospital to see you tomorrow, after you've been patched up."

"I'm counting on it," Kate replied with a wave.

Kim stood and watched until the silhouette of the three men and one woman carrying the prone figure faded into the shadows before turning back to the now-captive Drakken. "Okay, Drakken; time for some answers… why did you order Kate to kill me?"

"I was fed up," he replied, "tired of being a laughingstock amongst the villainous community; every scheme I'd ever come up with being foiled by a teenaged cheerleader… I'd had enough."

"So why didn't you order me killed sooner?"

"You were still a child; even I have morals enough to not kill a child. Once your eighteenth birthday had passed, however, that all changed."

"Starting to sound like a broken record," Kim muttered before continuing. "Where's Dementor?"

"Waiting for Peter and myself to return to our base of operations in the Grand Canyon so we can plan our next step," he answered with a scowl.

"Okay, when you talk to Global Justice in the _very_ near future, you'll tell them where that base is so they can go get him," Kim said.

"I have a question," Ron broke in, "why did you all of a sudden decide that you _didn't_ want Kim dead after you'd ordered Shego to kill her?"

"After Shego left, I started thinking; what would the world think if they saw Kim Possible bowing to me and admitting—without the influence of any neural compliance devices—that I'd defeated her, wholly and completely? If I could beat her, who would be able to stop me?"

"So you decided to hire the premier black-market operation in the country to capture me and bring me to you so you could break my spirit… is that it?" Kim summarized.

"Yes, that's it precisely."

Kim nodded with a look of sheer disgust and contempt on her face directed at the mad scientist before her. "Get him out of my sight," she growled to the two troopers that held him between them. "I can't be held responsible for my actions if he sticks around here much longer."

"You got it, Miss Possible," one of the troopers said, pulling on Drakken's left arm. "Come on, Blue Boy; let's go."

Kim, Yori and Ron waited for the squad of state troopers to start marching out of the wooded area—the two troopers escorting Drakken leading the way—before they made their way out to the highway. As they exited the woods, they noticed the number of police cars appeared to have doubled. They also noticed a couple of unmarked cars similar to the one they'd arrived in and a black van with **CORONER** stenciled on the side in yellow. A bit further up, they could see Drakken being loaded into the back of an unmarked paddy wagon; two men dressed in unmistakable Global Justice jumpsuits standing on either side of the back doors as the mad scientist was escorted inside by state troopers.

Silence reigned between the trio as they made their way to the Global Justice car they'd arrived in; Kim and Ron walking hand-in-hand, Yori following a few steps behind. When they got to the car, Kim stopped and rested her head on her boyfriend's shoulder, breathing a heavy sigh.

"You okay, KP?" Ron asked, looking down at her.

"Yeah… I'm okay, baby," she replied softly, "it's just been a long day and I'm tired; mentally _and_ physically."

"I hear that," the young man said, slipping his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight."

"Me, too," Kim agreed, leaning up to kiss Ron tenderly on the lips. After a moment they pulled away and turned to look at the young Japanese woman that accompanied them. "Can we give you a lift, Yori?" she asked with a grateful smile. "If you need a place to stay, I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind."

"You honor me with your hospitality, Kim-chan; I accept," she replied with a bow and a smile.

Kim was about to respond when her Kimmunicator chimed. "Hey, Wade; what up?" she said, relieved to see her tech guru's face visibly relaxed.

"I was just talking to Dr. Director; she told me to tell you guys to just get out of there and go home," the teen phenom said with a grin. "She said there'll be plenty of time to debrief you tomorrow and you could both probably use a good night's sleep. Oh, and don't worry about giving statements to the state police; Global Justice will look after that, too."

"As always, you rock in stereo, Wade," the teen heroine said. "Let us know as soon as you hear anything else."

"You got it," Wade said, signing off.

Dropping her arm, Kim turned to her boyfriend with a tired smile. "You wanna drive?" she asked.

"Sure, KP," he replied, opening the driver's door of the car while she walked around to the other side and Yori climbed into the back seat. Once they were all settled in the seats and buckled in, Ron started the Crown Vic and pulled away, unnoticed by either the state patrolmen or the Global Justice agents present.

Barely two minutes down the road, Ron turned to say something to his girlfriend and stopped short when he realized she'd fallen fast asleep, a content smile on her face. With a small smile of his own, he reached over and placed his hand on her thigh to give it a comforting squeeze. When he started to remove his hand, however, her left hand grasped his right and held it where it was, a mumbled "don't let go, Ronnie," escaping her lips.

He stole another look at her to see if she was waking up, but the redheaded heroine slept on, despite the strong grip she kept on his hand. "Don't worry, Kim; I'll never let go… I've got your back," he whispered, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze.

* * *

Kim never stirred again until Ron steered Kate's borrowed car into the Possible driveway, parking just behind her father's car. Giving her a gentle shake, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek as he shut the ignition off. "KP… we're home," he whispered in her ear, shaking her a little harder.

As she stirred awake, the front door of the house swung open and their combined families spilled out, James Possible in the lead. Shaking the cobwebs from her head, the redheaded heroine climbed out and looked at her father with a broad smile. "Daddy!" she cried out as he gathered her in his arms.

"Kimmie-cub, thank God you're safe!" he breathed, crushing her in his arms.

Meanwhile, Jean Stoppable—with Hana in her arms—ran over to her son and hugged him. "Ronald, what are you doing out of the hospital? There's no way you've healed up yet!"

"Let's just say I had some help," Ron replied, motioning to Yori, who still stood beside the car. When Ron's mother looked in her direction, she bowed politely, but remained silent.

"I… see," the Stoppable matriarch said, not bothering to press the matter. She'd seen enough of the young Japanese woman since Ron's trip to Yamanouchi in his junior year to know that there was more to the story that, apparently, she wasn't privy to and probably didn't _want_ to be privy to.

"Come on, everybody; let's go inside," Anne Possible said once she'd had her chance to embrace her daughter, "there's no point standing around out here." Without removing her arm from around Kim's shoulders, the neurosurgeon led the group back into the house, only releasing the younger redhead when they were in the living room.

Once everybody had taken a seat, James looked around and did a head count. "Where's Miss Gogh?" he finally asked after a moment. "Wasn't she with you before?"

"Kate's gone to the hospital," Kim replied, once again snuggled into her boyfriend with her head on his chest and her arms around his midsection; his arm around her shoulders. "She got shot trying to chase Drakken down."

"Is she going to be okay?" Anne asked, already reaching for the telephone.

"Oh yeah, she's gonna be fine," Kim replied with a wave of her hand. "Besides the ability to throw plasma, one of the other effects from that comet was accelerated healing; she told me she got shot when she was still with Team Go and was out of the hospital in two days."

"So who was behind this whole mess," Dean asked from the other end of the sectional couch, "and can we be sure that there's nobody left to try and pick up where this left off?"

"Drakken was behind all of it," Kim replied with a scowl. "He wanted to capture me and break me to the point that, without the influence of mind control chips or any so-called magic potion, I would be willing to admit to the world that he'd defeated me… and then he'd likely have killed me."

"Why would he all of a sudden want to kill you when he's had countless chances before?" James interjected.

"I'm eighteen, now, Dad; that mean's I'm fair game," Kim replied dryly.

"We can argue about the moral ramifications later," Anne broke in with a tone that brooked no argument, "right now I want to take a closer look at your abdomen, young man." With that, the neurosurgeon rose from her seat and motioned for Ron to do the same. "Take your shirt off," she said, using her best "doctor's voice."

"Okay, Mrs. Dr. P," the towheaded teen said with a note of trepidation as he stood up and peeled his shirt over his head. Without hesitation, the elder redhead leaned in and examined the scars on his abdomen—both entry and exit—with clinical precision and a little bit of awe.

"Unbelievable," Anne breathed as she examined the scar, brushing her fingertips gently over the lightly puckered skin, "this scar looks like it's six months old; not three days."

"Ron-kun is endowed with an ancient and mystical energy that allows him to heal much faster than most," Yori said with a small smile. "It is not an ability to be abused, however both Ron-kun and Sensei felt the situation of Kim-chan's abduction was worthy of him summoning it."

"That's all well and good for us, now tell us how we're going to explain it to the doctors that treated him?" the world-famous surgeon deadpanned, her arms crossed over her chest as Ron pulled his shirt back on. "I'm sure nobody involved wants Ron's unique 'abilities' publicized and even if we did, I'd probably lose my license pending a psychiatric assessment."

"I've got it!" Kim exclaimed after a moment, snapping her fingers. "Kate's abilities and enhanced healing are well-documented, right?"

"Yes; I've read the case studies on all of the Gogh children several times," Anne said with a nod, "but what does that have to do with anything? Other than close contact with Kate, Ron's had no exposure to the comet's radiation."

"So? We also know that she went to search him down when he left the hospital," the teen heroine said, explaining her theory. "To straighten this out, we'll bend the truth a little bit and say when she found him he was still hurt and starting to aggravate the wound; she figured out a way to channel her plasma into him in a way that accelerated his healing process."

"That might work," Anne mused, "but I would want to run it by her first and see if she would be willing to go with that story."

"Somehow I don't think that'll be a problem," her daughter replied with a grin, "but I'll ask her about it when I go see her in the morning." Noticing her boyfriend's put-out gaze, she looked back at him understandingly. "I know you want to go to, baby, but I think it'd be better if you lie low just long enough for us to make sure we've got the story straight."

"As usual, you're right, KP," Ron said with a nod. "When you do go, tell her I said hi."

"Count on it, boyfriend," she said, nuzzling his cheek with her nose.

Everybody in the room sat in companionable silence for about a minute or so, the four parents smiling fondly at their oldest offspring as they cuddled on the couch. Finally, Dean Stoppable placed his hands on his knees and stood, turning to look at his wife and adopted daughter once he was on his feet. "Well dear, do you suppose it's about time that we head home? It's getting late and I'm sure the Possibles would certainly like to go to bed… not to mention Ronald's probably itching to spend a night in a real bed after the past few nights in the hospital."

"I think you're right," Jean replied with a knowing smile as she handed her sleeping daughter to her husband before rising. Turning to Anne, she winked before speaking to her son. "We'll see you in the morning, Ronnie," she said before following her husband out the door.

"Huh?" a dumbstruck Ron managed to stammer.

"I think you're being told by your mother to spend the night here," Anne replied with a smirk as she rose to see the Stoppables to the door, "and I think it's a great idea; especially considering you're supposed to lay low."

"I suppose you're right," the towheaded teen shrugged as he and Kim rose from their seats. Making their way to the door, they gave his parents each a hug and kissed his mother and Hana each on the cheek; Kim also giving Dean a peck on the cheek. "See you guys in the morning," Ron said with a smile as they turned and left the house.

Anne turned to look at Yori, who had also risen and was approaching the door. "Do you need a place to stay tonight, Yori? We have a guest room that you would be more than welcome to use if you need to."

Yori bowed to her hosts. "Again I thank you for your hospitality, Dr. Possible, however I must decline; Sensei has summoned me back to Yamanouchi immediately. A taxi is on its way to collect me and bring me to the airport," she said with a smile as she replaced a cell phone into her pocket.

"Thanks again for everything, Yori," Ron said as he and Kim each gave the young ninja a hug.

"It was my honor and pleasure, Ron-kun," she replied as her cab pulled up to the curb and honked its horn. "I hope to see you both again soon and under much happier circumstances."

"Likewise," Kim said with a smile. "Take care, Yori."

With a final bow and a smile, the young Japanese woman turned and left the house. They all watched at the door as she climbed into the back of the cab, only leaving the window when the car pulled away from the curb.

Once they'd left, Anne turned to the young couple with her sternest "Mom" look, offset with a loving smile that she couldn't hide if she tried. "Now, you two," she said, grabbing Ron's shoulders and guiding him towards the stairs, "you march right up those stairs and go to bed. You both need a good night's sleep," she ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Dr. P," Ron replied with a grin as he started for the stairs. Anne's hand squeezing his shoulder, however, made him stop and look at her again.

Kim had also stopped, but her mother waved her on, waiting until she'd disappeared from earshot before speaking. "Dammit, Ron; I told you to call me Anne," she chided, her expression softening almost instantly, "and for the record… any night you end up staying here you can stay with Kim. You're both adults now and, more importantly, James and I trust both of you to be responsible in whatever decision you make… just do us a favor and lock the door if things go past PG-thirteen."

Blushing furiously, Ron swallowed hard and nodded as he tried to make his suddenly-dry mouth work properly. "Okay," he finally managed to squeak out. "Thanks Mrs.—uh, Anne."

"You're learning," the world-famous neurosurgeon said with a warm smile as she pulled the young man into a hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Now go to bed; I'm sure Kim's waiting for you."

As Ron continued up the stairs, James stepped up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Are you really sure that's such a good idea?" he asked her once the young man was out of earshot. "They are still teenagers, after all."

"Have you ever met two teenagers that are as mature—and have proven it time and again—as those two?" the elder redhead retorted, turning to look at her husband from the corner of her eye, a mischievous twinkle in it as she continued. "Don't worry, dear; you won't be 'Grandpa Possible' anytime soon," she said with a laugh, disengaging herself from his grasp and leading him by the hand up the stairs, even as he tried to stammer a response.

* * *

Kim was just stripping down to take another shower—she felt positively grimy after the events of the day—when she heard a knock on her trap door. Grabbing her bathrobe, she quickly wrapped it around herself and tied the belt before opening it up, her face splitting into a wide smile when she saw who was on the other side. "Is this your way of telling me my favorite cuddle buddy's gonna be spending the night with me again tonight?" she asked softly as Ron climbed the last few steps, closing the hatch behind him.

"You got it, KP; I'm all yours," he replied, drawing her into his arms and kissing her tenderly.

"Don't you forget it, either, mister," she murmured with her lips still pressed to his. After another few moments of exchanging small kisses, she pulled away and looked him in the eye. "I'm gonna go grab a quick shower; do you want to take one when I'm done?"

Ron lifted his left arm and stuck his nose down towards his armpit, sniffing it and making a face. "Unless we're gonna sleep on opposite edges of the bed, it'd probably be a good idea," he replied, "I'm kinda funky."

"Okay," she giggled, disengaging herself from his arms, "don't go anywhere; I'll be right back." Giving him another quick peck on the lips, she turned and went into the bathroom, an evil smirk crossing her face. Before closing the door, she untied her bathrobe and took it off, all the while keeping her back to the bedroom. Hearing Ron's gasp, she looked over her shoulder at him, giving him a wink and wiggling her backside before kicking the door shut with her left foot. _I'm gonna end up killing that poor man before I ever get a chance to make love to him if I keep that up,_ she thought with a chuckle as she turned the water on.

_Cold shower for me tonight,_ Ron thought once the door had shut and he heard the water start. He'd always known Kim was a beautiful woman, but he'd never seen her reveal everything to him the way she just had, even if it was only her backside. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he went to her closet and retrieved his gym shorts—the same ones he'd worn the last night he spent with Kim—and went behind the privacy screen in the corner to change, just in case Kim came back out before he finished. Once he'd completed that task, he re-emerged and pulled a dark-blue bath towel from the shelf beside the bed before sitting down at the computer for a rousing game of Solitaire while he waited for Kim to finish.

Roughly ten minutes later Kim came back out from the bathroom with her bathrobe back on and a towel wrapped around her head. "It's all yours, baby," she said, coming over to give him a kiss on the forehead as he watched the cards dance off the screen.

He closed the program and stood, looking deep into his girlfriend's eyes as he drew her into his embrace. "You're a bad girl, Kim Possible," he muttered as he pressed his lips to hers again, eliciting a soft moan from deep in her throat.

"Are you complaining?" she asked with a raised eyebrow as they pulled apart.

"Not one bit," he replied before releasing her and making his way to the bathroom. Rather than tease her as she did him, however, he closed the door before dropping his shorts to climb in the shower.

Once she could hear the shower running, the redheaded heroine went to the trap door and locked it—just in case—before grabbing the red jersey she'd confiscated from Ron. Continuing on to her dresser, she started to go for a pair of her gym shorts—same as she had worn the last time they'd spent the night together—but instead selected a pair of cotton panties and quickly changed behind the privacy screen, slipping into bed and propping her pillows against the headboard so she was sitting up, watching for the bathroom door to open again.

Less than five minutes later, Ron emerged from the bathroom with a stretch and a yawn, again wearing the gym shorts. "Man, I didn't realize just how beat I was until after that," he said as he shut the lights off. Making his way to the bed by memory, he slipped under the covers and lay back with a contented sigh. "And this beats sleeping in a hospital bed any day of the week and twice on Sundays."

"You are so weird," Kim chuckled as she curled up against his side, her hand slipping across his stomach as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in closer.

"Yeah, but you love me for it," the towheaded teen murmured with his trademark lopsided grin.

"I do," she whispered, her fingertips absently playing over the small collection of wiry hairs around his navel as she kissed his cheek tenderly, "more than you could possibly imagine."

"I dunno about that, KP," he replied, rolling on his side to face her, her green eyes shimmering in the moonlight coming through her window. "I don't think anybody can love another person as much as I love you."

"That has to be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," she murmured, running her hand up his side, all the way to his face, cupping his cheek and pulling his face to hers as she claimed his mouth in a long, smoldering kiss that left them both breathless when she finally pulled back.

"Wow," was all Ron could say when he finally found his voice.

"Definitely wow," Kim agreed, resting her forehead against his. Running her hand over the back of his head, her fingers brushing through his still-damp hair, she took a few deep breaths before attempting to speak again. "It's sure been a crazy few days, hasn't it?"

"You're telling me," Ron replied with a sigh, his hand running up and down his girlfriend's back, "first Shego turns good, then the whole mess with Phoenix…"

"You getting shot," she interjected, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as the horrible memory returned to the forefront of her mind. "Ron, I have never been more scared in my life than when I saw you lying on that stage in Denver with a bullet hole in your stomach… I thought I was going to lose you."

"It was scary for me, too, Kim," he said softly, pulling her into a tight embrace as tears welled in his own eyes. "Staring death in the face isn't exactly fun when there's so much you haven't done yet with your life; going to college, getting a degree, getting married and having kids… I've always wanted to be a dad."

"And you'd be a great one," she whispered, a tear escaping the corner of her eye and rolling across her nose as a sudden image of standing with him at the altar at St. Jude's crossed her mind; immediately followed by the two of them sitting on a couch in a non-descript living room, a newborn baby with strawberry-blonde hair and freckles in her arms. "Just like I'm sure you'll make a great husband someday… you're already an awesome boyfriend."

"You're a pretty badical girlfriend, too, KP; I'm sure you'll be a great wife and mom," he replied, gazing deeply into her eyes as he used a thumb to wipe the damp trail the tear left over the bridge of her nose.

"I have a good coach in the Mom department," she said with a grin.

"Yeah, I can't argue that one," he agreed with a nod and a grin of his own. "Speaking of which, she said something interesting to me before I came up."

"What's that?"

"Well, she basically told me that any night I crash here I can stay in here with you… she also asked me—or us, really—to make sure we lock the hatch if things 'go past PG-thirteen', to quote her directly," he added with a blush.

"She actually said that?" she blinked, not bothering to mention that she had done just that.

"Yeah; she said that we're adults and her and your dad trust us to be responsible with whatever decisions we make."

"Something tells me she's the one that trusts us and she convinced Dad to go along with it," Kim mused with a chuckle. "He's still having a hard time letting go of his Kimmie-cub, but I think he's getting better… especially if Mom's been working on him."

"You're probably right," Ron nodded. Their conversation lapsed for a few minutes, both of them just basking in each other's company and the fact they had _carte blanche_ to stay together whenever Ron stayed over. Of course they wouldn't abuse the privilege—it was still Kim's parents' house, after all and they would respect that—but that didn't mean they wouldn't take advantage of it.

As they lay quiet, Ron had rolled onto his back again, prompting Kim to cuddle into his side, laying her head on his chest, her hand again playing with the fine hairs on his stomach. Every now and then her fingertips would brush across the scar Peregrine's sniper bullet had left, causing her to frown as she traced its outline.

Finally she broke the silence again after about the fourth time touching his scar. "Baby," she murmured tentatively, "can I talk to you about something… or are you too tired to listen right now?"

"I'm never too tired to listen to you, Kim," he replied. Truth be told he was exhausted—using his MMP to heal himself had taken a lot out of him—but he was willing to stay awake to listen to what Kim had to say. "What's on your mind?"

"How long have we been together now?"

Ron did a quick calculation in his head before answering. "A little over a year," he finally responded, "if you mean how long we've been _together-_together. If you're talking how long we've been best friends… long enough for me to comfortably say all our lives."

"I meant how long we've been dating, but I feel the same way about the best friend part," she acknowledged with a nod and a smile, kissing him on the cheek before continuing. "Where are we in our relationship, do you think?"

"Oh, no!" he groaned melodramatically, clamping his free hand over his face. "If I'd known we were gonna have one of these relationship talks, I _would've_ said I was too tired!"

"Very funny, Ron," she growled good-naturedly, knowing full well he was just being his silly self, "but seriously; I want to know where you think we are in our relationship."

Rolling back onto his side so he could look her in the eyes again, he brushed a hand through her hair, reveling in how luxuriously thick and silky it was before answering. "I didn't want to say anything just yet, but… I've started thinking a lot longer term than just college," he muttered tentatively, awaiting his girlfriend's reaction.

"How much longer term?" she prodded, not daring to hope for the answer she wanted to hear.

"Let's just say I've pictured sitting in a rocking chair with a gray-haired version of you," he replied softly. "I can't imagine life without you, KP."

Tears had started shimmering in her eyes again at Ron's statement, but this time her tears were of joy. "You have no idea how happy you just made me," she whispered, her voice choking as she fought to control herself. Rather than attempt to continue to speak, she instead pulled the young man into a tight embrace, burying her face in the crook of his neck and planting feather-light kisses everywhere her lips touched. "I love you so much, baby," she whispered after a few moments of this.

"I love you too, Kim," he replied, pulling back just far enough to angle his head in the right position to kiss her on the lips. It started out as a tender, loving kiss; but after a few moments a hunger and urgency neither had experienced before started taking over. Kisses became deeper, hands started wandering over bodies and breathing became more and more labored. At one point Ron pulled the hem of Kim's jersey up to her waist and ran his hands underneath it, caressing the soft skin of her back in the same manner her hands moved on his back. Not long after that, Kim pressed her weight into Ron, rolling him on his back and rolling with him so she was on top of him, breaking the kiss just long enough to sit up and peel off the jersey, leaving herself clad in just her panties. She stayed that way just long enough for Ron to admire her mostly-naked form before leaning back in and reclaiming his mouth in a kiss that much more passionate than the one she'd broken.

Ron, meanwhile, was on sensory overload. Yes, he'd seen Kim topless before on two occasions—he'd even been allowed a trip to second base on one of those—but never before had he seen this much of Kim's body at once. Combined with the fact that he was wearing little more than she was and that he'd never felt this much bare flesh in contact with his own before made it difficult for the young man to think straight. Before his brain completely shorted out, however, Kim relented and slowed the pace and intensity of their kisses down until, after one particularly long and tender one, she pulled away and looked deeply into his eyes. "Ron… I'm ready," she whispered, "but only if you are."

Not long after their so-called "half-aversary," Kim and Ron had sat down on the same bed that they were currently in—fully clothed and in the middle of the day, however—and broached a subject they hadn't expected to touch on for some time… sex. After a long discussion on what they expected and wanted from each other and their relationship, they had agreed that neither would force the other to do anything they didn't feel comfortable with or ready for. They also agreed that there should be no set deadline aside from when they were both ready, which they both knew wasn't right then.

This, however, was a totally different ballgame. He knew he loved Kim with all of his heart and soul and he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He also knew that he wanted to take the next step in their relationship, confident in the fact they would perform the act out of love and not lust. Spending time in the hospital with a near-fatal gunshot wound to the abdomen will put things in a new perspective for a person, after all.

Locking eyes with the woman he loved, Ron reached up and ran his hand through her hair again, her green orbs sparkling in anticipation as she stared into his chocolate ones. "I'm as ready as you are, Kim," he whispered. "If I die tomorrow, at least I'll know what it's like to have truly loved you."

"Oh, baby," she murmured huskily as more tears escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Leaning back down on top of him, she claimed his mouth in another long, tender and sensual kiss, their tongues dancing together in a lover's waltz as their hands continued to wander.

After some time, Ron's large hands had made their way down her back and came in contact with the waistband of her underwear. At first he merely ran his hands over the thin cotton, feeling the roundness of her buttocks through the material and letting his fingers trace the edges of the waistband and the outer part of the leg openings before finally letting his index fingers hook the elastic, where he hesitated. Sensing the hesitation, Kim broke the kiss and leaned back slightly, looking in his eyes again with a sultry and loving smile on her face, gently nodding her approval of his actions and raising her hips to facilitate them.

With trembling hands, Ron gently pushed on the elastic waistband, the thin material slipping easily down Kim's legs. Once he'd pushed them as far as his arms would allow, she reached back and pulled them the rest of the way off, dropping the garment on the floor with her already-discarded jersey and straddled his waist, standing on her knees and allowing him to see her. "So?" she asked tentatively, not the least bit self-conscious about being naked in front of him. "What do you think?"

For several moments Ron said nothing, his eyes slowly traveling over her body, studying every curve and detail from her hair all the way to where her knees met the bed. Taking a ragged breath, he finally found his voice. "I have never seen a more beautiful sight in my life," he whispered huskily, his eyes still taking her in even as they locked with hers again.

Rather than respond to his statement verbally, Kim instead leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the lips, a shiver running down her spine as her bare breasts touched his equally-bare chest for the first time. Pulling away, the former cheerleader slowly started planting a trail of feather-light kisses along his chin and neck, working her way down his chest. She could feel his desire manifesting itself under her abdomen as she continued to work her way further downward, causing her own desire to grow. She stopped for a moment when she arrived at his scar, looking closely at it and brushing her fingertips lightly over it—lovingly as opposed to the clinical touch her mother had given it—before kissing it tenderly as she moved further down his body.

When she arrived at the waistband of his shorts, much the same series of events as before was played out in reverse. She ran her hands along the outsides of his thighs as she leaned back on her haunches and observed the obvious bulge in front. Running her hands back up the front of his legs, she hooked her fingers in his waistband—almost exactly as he'd done to her—and looked into his eyes. They both remained that way for a long moment, just looking at each other, until Ron finally nodded with a loving smile on his face, raising his hips slightly off the bed as she started to gently pull, her eyes involuntarily widening as all was revealed to her for the first time. Quickly recovering from her moment of surprise, she slipped his shorts the rest of the way off and dropped them on the floor with her own discarded garments before returning her gaze to her boyfriend's now-naked form.

Ron watched Kim as she seemed to study him, her eyes constantly traveling up and down his body, yet always stopping at the same spot. Gingerly she reached out and closed her right hand around him, eliciting a soft moan from the young man that made her stop. "Are you okay?" she whispered in a shaky voice, her hand immobilized on him.

"Oh yeah," he replied, his eyes riveted on her hand, "that feels good."

She nodded in agreement as she started to move her hand along his length. "I didn't expect it to be so… big," she murmured as she studied it a bit more. Other than her current situation, the only time Kim had ever seen a male reproductive organ was in high-school Sex Ed classes and even then only in illustrations. To be holding a real one in her hand—not just any one, but that of the man she loved more than life itself—was certainly an experience she would remember for the rest of her life. After another moment of touching, Kim released him and leaned forward, laying herself completely on top of Ron, kissing him tenderly as his arms moved around her waist. "I just want to feel all of you against all of me," she whispered against his lips between kisses.

For some time they remained like that, nothing between them but their own love and desire as they continued to kiss. Finally, when Kim raised her hips and reached her right hand between their bodies to guide him to her, he tensed. "Kim… I don't have any… you know… protection," he whispered, his eyes wide in panic.

"It's okay, baby," she replied just as softly, a disarming smile on her face, "I've been on birth control ever since I was fifteen... we're safe."

Ron visibly relaxed at her statement, his grasp on her hips also relaxing as she resumed positioning herself to him. When she felt his tip at her entrance, she hesitated, gazing deeply into his eyes. Neither spoke, their life-long bond allowing them to communicate with nothing more than a glance or a touch. Even in the dim moonlight, they could each see in the other's eyes that there were no doubts in either mind that they were ready, prompting Kim to lean back, easing him into her for the first time.

Both remained still and silent as she slowly coaxed herself further, feeling herself slowly being filled by her man; a long, ragged breath escaping her as she finally had all of him inside her. Sitting up with her hands on his chest, she again locked her eyes on his with the same loving smile on her face. "You okay?" she asked simply, already suspecting the answer.

"Never better; you?" he replied, interlocking the fingers of both her hands with both of his.

"Ditto," she replied, slowly moving her hips. "I love you, Ron."

"I love you, too, Kim."

Like any first time, there were moments of hesitation and awkwardness—compounded by the fact it was the first time for both of them—but soon both were into a rhythm that seemed to suit them and their needs, their gazes remaining locked together as they saw into the furthest recesses of the other's soul. Both of them had been in locker rooms and heard the usual talk about "scoring" and "getting lucky" during a date—increasing exponentially as the year went on, culminating with prom season—and knew that they were probably among the last members of their graduating class to lose their virginity. Unlike those others, however, they knew they were doing so much more than just "getting lucky;" they were sharing one of the most precious events of their young lives with each other, an event that would mark the completion of a bond they already shared in every other way—spiritually, emotionally and psychologically.

They lay cuddled together under the covers, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking; Ron on his back and Kim on her side with her head resting on his shoulder, an arm across his chest. It hadn't lasted all that long, but both were more than satisfied with the outcome of their first time together; what they knew was the first of many. For some time they remained silent, a light caress or a soft kiss all either needed to communicate with the other until, overcome by exhaustion and contentment, they fell asleep; both with smiles on their faces.

* * *

In their bedroom one level below, Anne and James Possible also lay cuddled together in much the same fashion as their daughter and her boyfriend, having just concluded similar activities. They'd been silent for some time after they'd finished, James' hand wandering aimlessly over his bride's bare back while she fingered the wiry hairs on his chest. Finally, however, he broke the silence. "I'm still not sure I like the idea of Kimmie-cub and Ronald spending the night together so much," he muttered with a sigh.

"Dear, we've discussed this," Anne replied, not moving from her present position. "Kimmie and Ron are both responsible adults and if they feel the time has come to add the physical element to their relationship, I would much rather they do it here than in the back seat of that Sloth—which, as I remember, isn't exactly roomy—or in some dank hotel room somewhere."

"But… they're only eighteen," he argued lamely.

"Which means they're adults in the eyes of the law," the redhead said with a hint of exasperation. They'd had the same discussion ad nauseum and, quite frankly, she was getting sick of it. "Do you remember our first time?"

"Of course; it was on Lookout Point in the backseat of my car."

"What do you remember most about it?"

James was silent for a moment as he thought back. Finally, a chuckle escaped his lips as he answered. "You getting a charley horse in your left thigh halfway through," he replied.

"Is that how you would want anybody to remember the first time they made love to the person they intended to spend the rest of their life with?"

"I suppose not," he conceded, sighing again as he saw his wife's point. "She grew up too fast, Anne."

"My father said the same thing to my mother the day you asked him for my hand," she reminded him, her left thumb absently twirling her engagement ring around her finger. "Fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, dear; it's a well-known conundrum. Just remember one thing: when the day comes—and we both know it will—that Ron asks you for Kim's hand, it doesn't mean you're losing a daughter… you're gaining a son."

James nodded, but said nothing more as he let her point sink in. Just before he finally drifted off to sleep, he realized that, as usual, she was right and when it came right down to it, there was no man on the planet he would rather gain as a son than Ron Stoppable.

* * *

The next morning, Anne and Kim had both risen early and encountered each other at the top of the stairway to the main level of the house; both in their bathrobes. "Good morning, Kimmie," the elder redhead said brightly, giving her daughter a kiss on the cheek.

"Morning, Mom," Kim replied equally brightly, returning the buss on the cheek. "Apparently it's a day for the boys to sleep in?"

"I guess so," the neurosurgeon chuckled as she led the way to the kitchen. As usual, the coffeemaker had just finished brewing, the dark liquid steaming in the pot when they entered. "Did you sleep well last night?" she asked as she filled two mugs from the freshly-brewed pot.

"I've never slept better in my life," Kim replied enthusiastically as she retrieved the coffee cream from the refrigerator.

"Was it everything you imagined and more?"

Kim almost dropped the carton, but managed to recover quickly. "Ron and I have spent the night in the same bed before, Mom; I knew what to expect," she replied innocently.

"Kimmie, you're wearing your bathrobe and your hair is dry; any other morning you've come downstairs you've been either wearing pajamas or that jersey of Ron's and a pair of shorts… and if you take a shower, you get dressed before you come down," her mother said with a knowing smile, bringing a bright flush to the younger redhead's cheeks. "So I'm going to ask you again: was it everything you imagined and more?"

A sheepish grin crossed Kim's face as she realized her mother wasn't angry or upset in the least; if anything, she seemed almost… _happy_ it had happened. "So much more, Mom," she finally gushed, "I never thought I could love him more than I did, but after last night…" she trailed off, a dreamy expression on her face.

Anne nodded with another smile. "That's why I wanted you to start spending the night together more often," she said, "I wanted to make sure your first time wasn't like mine and your father's."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," the elder redhead said, shaking her head. Even though the car had since been heavily modified, the fact remained the backseat of Kim's Sloth was the place where Anne O'Reilly and James Possible had made love for the first time, twenty-five years previous and Kim most likely did _not_ want to know that. "So what do you have planned for today?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Well, I'm gonna go see Kate in a little bit and make sure she can go along with the story of using her powers to fix Ron's wounds; after that, I'm not sure," the teen replied, taking a sip of her coffee.

"How about we take another crack at going to Muddrakker's with the Stoppables?" Anne suggested. "At least this time nothing should happen in the meantime to screw that up."

"Works for me," Kim replied with a nod. Taking another sip of her coffee, she slid out of the breakfast nook and gave her mother a hug. "I'm gonna go get dressed and see if Ron's awake yet," she said, planting a kiss on Anne's cheek as she continued, "thanks again, Mom… for everything."

"You're welcome, dear," Anne replied with a fond smile as she watched her daughter head for the stairs, a bounce in her step that had never been there before. _Oh, she's got it _bad_ for that boy;_ she thought with a smirk, _I just hope she doesn't wear him out._

* * *

Later that morning, Kim climbed out of Kate's borrowed Global Justice car in the hospital parking lot, beside her own car. She gave the magenta hatchback a quick once over and, once satisfied nobody had tried to do anything to it, carried on to visit her injured friend. When she entered her room, she was slightly surprised to find Dr. Director already there, talking amiably with the former villainess. Both turned to face the teen heroine when she tapped on the door. "Hey Kim," Kate said with a wave.

"Good morning, Kim," Director said with a nod, "I just came to give Miss Gogh here an update on what happened since you left the scene last night."

"Judging by your expression it's good news?" Kim guessed.

Director nodded before responding. "Not long after we had Dr. Drakken in custody, we convinced him it would be in his best interests to give us everything he knew; including the location of his Grand Canyon hideout," she said as Kim pulled up a second chair to sit beside the GJ administrator. "He proceeded to give us the information we needed and we were able to secure both the hideout and Professor Dementor without further incident."

"What about the guy the cops killed last night; Drakken's driver?" the redhead asked.

"He was a small-time crook recruited by Drakken to perform some of the more menial duties associated with his scheme," Director replied. "Before his association with Drakken, he was wanted in Denver and Colorado Springs on misdemeanor drug charges and stunt driving."

"What a waste," Kim sighed, looking at the floor. "So what happens now?"

"The District Attorney's office has convinced both Dr. Drakken and Professor Dementor that it would be in their best interests to plead guilty; with the amount of evidence compiled against them, they've been guaranteed the DA will go for the death penalty if it goes to trial. Should they plead guilty, however, the DA will be content with sequential life sentences with no chance of parole… I don't think I need to tell you which option they selected."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Kate muttered dryly. "If nothing else, Dr. D will always be a grade-A coward."

"At least that part's over with," Kim said, sitting back in her chair, "but what about Phoenix?"

"All Phoenix Corporation assets have been seized by Global Justice; we're still searching any personnel records to verify we've got all members accounted for," Director explained. "Unfortunately, that's going to be a much longer process that could drag on for some time yet. All properties and physical assets will be sold off in court auction with the exception of weapons, which will all be melted down."

"So Phoenix is out of the picture, too?"

"For now, yes; until we verify we've either captured or accounted for all members of the organization, however, we won't know for sure," Director said, rising from her seat. "On that note, I must return to my duties; I hope you're feeling better soon, Miss Gogh."

"I'll be out of here tomorrow, but thanks anyway," Kate replied with a grin.

Director returned the grin before nodding to each of them in turn. "Have a good day, Miss Gogh; Kim," she said before turning on her heel and leaving the other two women alone.

"So how are you feeling, anyway, Kate?" Kim asked once they were alone.

"I'm fine, but that's not the real story," the former villainess replied, looking closely at the younger woman. "You and Ron… last night…?"

Kim's face glowed red as she sputtered, trying to respond. "What are you talking about?" she finally managed to blurt out.

"I saw it in your step when you came in; you had that 'it hurt like hell, but my _God_ it was worth it' wiggle in your hips," she said with a salacious grin. "So… the big hands… is it true what they say?"

"Kate!" Kim exclaimed, slapping the mint-skinned woman's hand away, her face still glowing red. After a moment of looking at her hands in her lap, however, she looked back up with an evil grin of her own. "It's most def true," she muttered, instantly giggling uncontrollably.

Kate couldn't help but laugh at the young woman as she fought to regain her composure. "That's what I thought," she finally managed when they calmed down. "So what brings you here instead of having a love-in with your man?"

Rolling her eyes, Kim ignored the second part of the question and went on to describe the solution they had come up with the previous evening to explain Ron's sudden improvement in health. "We needed to come up with something the doctors would be willing to buy without too many questions… it's not like we can go around telling people the real reason," she finished.

"Yeah, I can go along with that," the raven-haired vixen said with a nod. "I'm actually pretty sure that would really work, but I've never had a chance to try it—don't want to, either."

"Can't blame you there," Kim agreed with a nod. Reaching into her purse, she withdrew the keys to the Crown Vic and placed them on the table beside her bed. "Before I forget, here's the keys to your car; we brought it back last night."

"Thanks," Kate said with a nod. "Now, I'm sure there's plenty of things you would rather be doing than sitting here talking to me right now and I could use some beauty sleep; this whole comet healing business plays a girl out, y'know."

"Okay, Kate, I can take a hint," Kim said, rising. Before leaving, however, she looked the former villainess in the eye. "One question before I go?"

"Shoot."

"Have you decided what you're going to do when you get out of the hospital? You've already got a clean slate from Global Justice and the government; any ideas what's next?"

"I've got a couple of ideas, but nothing's set in stone yet," Kate replied with a smirk. "I'll let you know when I know for sure."

"Okay," Kim replied with a nod, "give me a call when you get out; we can go for coffee or something."

Kate nodded and winked at the teen. "You got it… Sis," she said with a genuine smile, which Kim mirrored before leaving her to her own thoughts.

It had certainly been a tumultuous few days for the former mercenary. From the moment she'd approached Kim at her high school graduation and expressed her desire to go straight, things had seemed to snowball from there. In the end, though, everything had worked out. Doctor Drakken—her former employer—was behind bars, the organization he'd hired to kidnap and break Kim had collapsed in the fallout and, best of all, she'd been given a chance at a fresh start; something she'd never dared hope for in the past.

"Yup; things are definitely starting to look up," she muttered to nobody as she closed her eyes, a serene smile on her face as she dozed off.

_**FIN**_

_

* * *

_

A/N: As I've stated before, this isn't the end of the arc; it's only the end of this story. I've already got ideas for future stories rolling around in my brain and hope to start on some of them in the not-too-distant future. I will, however, be giving myself a bit of a rest for a little while before I start on another ambitious effort like this one; anything I come out with in the near future will be of the one-shot variety.

_Again, I would like to sincerely thank everybody that has laid eyes on this story and determined it was worthy of their time to read. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed creating and sharing it with all of you out there. It's been a helluva ride and the fact it's over is still a little surreal, but there will be more to come. Thanks again for sticking with me and stay tuned for more._

_Cheers,  
__Deuce_


End file.
